Hearts of Courage
by padme's sister
Summary: Sequel to "Duel of the Fates". Three years have passed since Morgana was kidnapped, the Saxon wars began and Dante finally agreed to become Gwaine's wife. But how will the war affect everyone? Allegiances change, men rise and fall like the sun, and destinies are forged. But whose side will Dante choose? And who will suffer the ultimate price for her decision?
1. Torture

**Author note: Well, I finally got round to getting this up and running. I have to say I'm curious about the new series, and can't wait to see how the little spoilers and snatches of info that have been released work into the series, so it will be interesting to see. Some of the things, I've tried to incorporate into my writing, giving them my own spin, or playing them out as I'd imagine them to happen - doesn't mean that's the way it WILL happen though...this is just my interpretation.**

**Anyways, for those of you who may not know, this is the sequel to my other Merlin story "Duel of the Fates" and I strongly suggest you read that first, before you start upon this one. **

**And for those of you rejoining for this second part, welcome back! I hope you enjoy this just as much as part 1.**

**...**

**A few things you should know before you begin reading...**

**1. Part 2 is set three years after the end of Part 1, and much of what happened during those three years is explained by the various characters at some stage or another.**

**2. There are some things, however, that cannot simply be explained in a paragraph tor wo, so I have written flashbacks for those particular scenes. These flashbacks are written in italic, to help you tell the difference between the past and the present.**

**3. For those of you who may have already seen the image for this story (and even for those who haven't, yet), it features a female rider wearing armour against a red sunset. That rider is Dante, (just like it was Dante gracing the cover of "Duel of the Fates"). Whilst she does not, as yet, wear armour like that...well, look at it as a vision of the future. At some point she will don armour and ride a white charger, rather than her faithful Vixen. But how will she gain the armour, and why? That is something to keep you guessing for a while, hehehe.**

**...**

**And now, on to the story...**

A sudden shout and clatter of heavy bolts in the distance woke Morgana from a long and miserable nightmare in which she'd been dreaming, once again, of Emrys - her destiny and her doom.

She woke with a gasp, hanging suspended from shackles where the guards put her every day. The cuffs round her wrists were metal, attached to chains, and if she wanted to, she could have broken them easily with her magic. But they had their own 'magic men' as they called them, in their horde, and the shackles were enchanted with magic equally as strong - if not stronger than her own. No matter what spell or incantation she'd tried, she simply could not break free. Now she was utterly helpless as she hung there, suspended a few feet off the floor, wallowing in her own misery.

And on top of that, the routine was worse than the torture. They would take her down once every five hours for a ten minute walk. She could use a chamber pot and drink as much water as her stomach could hold. Sometimes they gave her food, but not always. And all the time she was supervised by their 'magic man' plus another ten men armed to the teeth, in case she tried anything. By now, however, she'd simply given up trying. But still, they were taking no chances.

When the ten minutes were up, she was dragged back to her cell and hung up, arms outstretched between the locks, legs dangling a few feet off the floor, wearing the same black robes she'd been wearing when she had been captured...whenever that was. After the first week, she'd lost count. Her outer cloak, boots, dagger and healing bracelet were nowhere to be seen, however, and she doubted she'd ever see them again.

The guards never told her anything – never uttered a single word to her. She could tell, though, that they regarded her with contempt.

A witch...a woman...an associate of their enemy. She deserved no better.

That she was still alive puzzled all of them. Her continued existence drained their patience, as well as their resources. They surely had better things to do, such as fighting this war with her brother.

But they followed orders to the letter, like good little soldiers, and that meant that someone, somewhere, wanted Morgana Pendragon alive.

She could only hazard a guess as to who that might be, and why.

The Saxons knew she was a relation to their most notorious 'enemy', Arthur. Albion was, for the moment, remaining firmly out of their grasp, thanks to his efforts at combining the Kingdoms under one common cause. It only made sense that if the Saxons could find any weakness in their defence, they would exploit it. And apparently, they were hoping that Morgana would give them the answers they were looking for. But even under the cruel torture sessions, Morgana still refused to speak. Why should she tell them that, in her eyes at least, Arthur Pendragon was undefeatable? He was stubborn, determined and courageous - She should know. He'd beaten her on several occasions now.

What made these Saxons think they would fare any better against him?

Perhaps their leader Cor, son of Cordin, was determined to force the information from her before she died?

Still, every time the guards came near her, she expected that her time had come, that they would take her down and execute her right there, with a single blade across the throat, or to the chest. Or perhaps a mace to the back of the head? An axe to cleave her head from shoulders? An arrow to the heart?

At least that, she thought in her darkest moments, would be a kind of release.

Her throat and lips were parched. Her head and arms ached. She could barely feel her fingers because the locks held her so tightly round the wrists. Dried blood snaked its way all over her body from the various tortures they had inflicted upon her, her legs were numb and had transcended past the pins and needles stage long before. Now, they were completely numb and felt like lead weights, pulling down on the rest of her body.

She was breaking.

Slowly.

Painfully.

She had nothing left to lose, yet her body still refused to give in and grant her the eternal peace that she was now so desperately seeking.

As she heard voices growing louder outside the cell, heading in her direction, she successfully fought the urge to despair. Instead, she raised her head and looked around. The other cells, visible across the vast dungeon, were empty. Her guards were momentarily absent. If she'd had any way of freeing herself, now would have been the opportune moment.

And then...?

Even if she escaped the restraints, the cell, the dungeons and even this castle (at least she assumed it was a castle) or wherever it was they were keeping her, would she be able to escape the Saxons completely?

And more to the point, would anyone still be waiting for her? Her little band of mercenaries. Or would they have given up by now? Assumed she was dead and moved on? Were any of them still alive, even? What if they'd all died because of her?

And what of Dante? What had become of her faithful servant? Did she survive the ambush outside Morgana's hut, so long ago, when she was first captured?

Morgana had heard Dante and Merlin arguing - what Merlin had been doing there in the first place was anyone's guess, and what they'd been arguing about, she didn't know either. But she could guess that it was about her, and Dante's loyalty to her. And then the battle had started, and men had smashed their way into her hut and knocked her unconscious.

She'd woken here, with no way of knowing whether the other two had even survived, though she couldn't help the terrible feeling she got whenever she thought about it. The last time Dante had seen battle, she hadn't fared too well. And this time, she'd had only Merlin to help her. The Acolyte's chances were slim, at best.

Feeling the surge of frustration growing within her, Morgana strained against her bonds, ignoring the familiar agony of the pain that surged through her from her restraints. Muscles stood out on her painfully thin arms. Her wrists were bruised from numerous such attempts. One day, she had told herself many times, the magical enchantment on the cuffs would fade or fail just long enough.

Until then, it was a good form of exercise.

Straining and hoping was better that thinking – about what had happened, or what might be to come. Feeling her fading strength give way, she sagged momentarily, before gathering her last energy reserves and trying again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice said from the doorway, and glancing up she saw Cor himself walking into the cell.

If looks could kill, the Saxon would have keeled over then and there, thanks to the glare that Morgana unleashed upon him as she continually tugged desperately at her bonds. Then, she thought she felt one of them weaken.

"I really wouldn't," Cor commented lightly, apparently not bothered in the slightest by the evil glare he was receiving from his prisoner. His time in Albion had helped him to perfect the foreign language, so that now he could speak it fluently with barely a hint of an accent. He was one of the few Saxons, however, that chose to even speak what they considered the 'dirty' language of their enemies.

Morgana ignored him and resumed her escape attempt. The locks hadn't shifted a millimetre. The illusion of slippage had come as a result of blood from her right wrist lubricating the restraint on that side. She yanked harder, ignoring the pain, but was as stuck fast as ever.

Exhausted, she sagged weakly in the locks.

"I did try to tell you," Cor sighed, speaking to her like a disappointed parent would speak to their disobedient child.

"What do you want?" she groaned, gritting her teeth against the fresh pain of her most recent escape attempt.

"I just came to see for myself what all the fuss is about. My men tell me that you are growing weaker every day. They're even holding bets to see how much longer you can last..." If he was trying to sound concerned, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Are you surprised?" Morgana snapped, though it didn't come out nearly half as angry as she'd intended it to.

"Well yes," Cor admitted sadly. "I know you Pendragons are strong, but we all expected you to give up weeks ago. And yet now, as I have seen for myself first hand, I find myself hoping that you WON'T give in. That you'll prove everyone wrong and keep going."

"Why?" Morgana asked suspiciously.

"Because I see potential in you. The others – your precious Brother and his allies – they feared you...they never trusted you. But I _don't_ fear you Morgana Pendragon. Your powers – I _embrace_ them. You're a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, no less. The last of your kind, in fact. Beautiful, rare and deadly. You hold more power than most people can ever dream of having, but I _believe_ in you. I _trust_ you."

Morgana found herself looking properly, for the first time, into the face of her enemy, and what she saw there choked her like an invisible fist crushing her throat.

The face was human.

The eyes...weren't.

They were cold and feral yellow, and they gleamed like those of a predator lurking beyond the fringe of firelight.

Stunned with horror, stunned with revulsion, Morgana could only stare at the creature, and looking into those terrible eyes, she saw her future, and what she herself may someday become.

Because Cor had magic. He was clearly the one who'd enchanted her restraints. His magic had consumed him, and now resonated from him in powerful waves. And he did not control IT.

IT controlled him.

This reality hit Morgana like a metal shield, slamming into her and causing her head to explode in terrible pain.

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes tight, praying for the pain to subside.

"I will never join you," she growled after a moment. As much as she hated Arthur, she hated this man...this monster, even more.

"Pity," he shrugged turning away. "You will remain here, then. As my prisoner. I could have taken your pain, given you peace. But you have chosen otherwise."

"You can still give me peace!" She called after him. "Be merciful! Kill me now! I am of no further use to you!"

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, with a smirk. "When Camelot is ashes, My Lady, _then_ you have my permission to die."

...

"You're sure this is the right place?" Mordred grumbled as he and Dante crept through the tunnels running beneath the cliff top castle that had once belonged to Lord Eldred of Northumbria.

"Nope," Dante admitted, holding the flaming torch in front of her to light their path. "But you heard Arthur. This is the most likely place Cor would hole himself up as he waited for reinforcements. And besides, over the past three years, we've looked everywhere else. All those castles, citadels, towns, villages, settlements and estates we infiltrated...and still no Morgana. We're running out of options!"

"Doesn't mean we'll find her here, either."

Dante stopped dead and spun to face the knight, who jumped back slightly, away from the flames. "And have you got any better ideas?!"

"Keep your voice down, woman," he snapped.

"Well have you?" she hissed, ignoring his lapse in manners as her voice dropped to an angry whisper. Now was not the time to argue over rank and title, after all.

Mordred opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again and sighed. "No. I haven't."

"Then stop complaining," she warned, before turning to continue on.

"Yes Milady," he spoke to the back of her head, pulling several faces at her without her knowledge. She could be so damned infuriating at times, and more than once he'd considered running her through and claiming the Saxons got her. But then, she was the only other person even remotely interested in helping Morgana, and without her, he wouldn't even have come this far.

She was closer to Arthur than anyone else he knew - except the Queen or Merlin, but they didn't trust him, and he didn't trust them. This meant, however, that Dante had access to information and secrets that no-one else did. Such as these secret tunnels beneath the castle.

She also happened to be one of Arthur's scouts, because she'd badgered and pestered the King for weeks on end, until he'd finally relented and given her a role in this war, just to shut her up. Now she could go where she liked, when she liked, on the pretence of scouting the area.

She'd even insisted that Mordred be her personal bodyguard and protector, giving them both perfect alibis to search for Morgana unhindered, without anyone suspecting the treason that they actually intended to conspire with her.

So alright, she had her benefits...but boy, did he grow weary of her attitude sometimes! Just because she was some high ranking lord's daughter - or some such nonsense. And she happened to be the First Lady of Camelot...so alright, she had power, too. She was a valuable ally, Mordred had to admit. But even so, there was only so much he could stand!

"Down!" She hissed suddenly, throwing the torch on the floor and kicking dirt over it to extinguish it.

Hearing what she'd heard - footsteps and voices heading in their direction, Mordred drew his sword and then crouched down behind the boulder with her, ready to attack, should the need arise.

They melted into the shadows, both glad they'd donned black leather and even blacker cloaks instead of the usual chainmail and red cloaks of Camelot.

As the voices grew closer, Mordred pressed one finger to his lips, to warn her to remain absolutely silent. She nodded in understanding, pulling the bow quietly from her back and knocking an arrow.

And then they waited. The group of Saxons who passed - four huge hulking men in thick furs - were talking in their strange foreign tongue, but Dante and Mordred had been studying them long enough now to understand the general gist of the conversation.

They were talking about a prisoner.

A female prisoner.

Who had magic.

Dante gave Mordred a pointed look, as if saying 'I told you so' as they slipped round the opposite side of the boulder and started down the pathway in the opposite direction to the Saxons. He rolled his eyes, knowing that in this instance she was right. But he'd never dignify this with an acknowledgement of any kind, and she knew it.

Still, an eye roll was more than she usually got when it turned out that she was right and he was wrong.

Finally emerging from a hidden door in one of the lower levels of the castle, the pair glanced around, trying to decide which way to go first.

"The dungeons would most likely be at the base of the castle," Mordred reasoned as they looked between their two options - a corridor leading to a staircase up, or another corridor with a staircase leading down.

"Not all castles are the same," Dante reminded him as she carefully placed the arrow back in her quiver and looped the bow back over her shoulder, freeing her hands once more. "Some have their dungeons at the top."

"Why the hell would you keep a prisoner at the TOP of your castle?" Mordred retorted, clearly not believing it.

"To stop them escaping out a window?" Dante explained impatiently, as if the answer were obvious.

"Yes but at the bottom of the castle there are no windows to escape from!"

"This is a cliff top castle. The last thing anyone wants is for their cell block to be flooded by the ocean and their prisoners to drown."

"They're prisoners. What does it matter if they die?!"

"They're still people, Mordred! Not all of us are crazy insane murderers! And besides, the prisoners may be hostages!"

"They may not be, as well!"

"Damn it, Mordred, stop arguing!" Dante finally snapped, her voice bouncing off the walls of the narrow corridor and echoing loudly in their ears. They both froze for a moment, afraid of being discovered. When no immediate alarm was raised, however, they assumed that for the moment at least, they were still undiscovered.

"Look, we'll work it like we worked the Citadel in Londinium, top to bottom," she suggested eventually, attempting to compromise. "With any luck, we can take a few of these Saxon bastards with us on the way."

For want of a better idea, and to simply shut her up before she well and truly gave them away, Mordred gave a huge resounding sigh and nodded. "Don't worry. I've given up trying to argue with you."

Turning towards the staircase leading up, they vanished just seconds before a Saxon patrol rounded the corner - sent to check out strange noises in this corner of the castle.


	2. The Rescue

**Author Note: Well I have to admit, I'm a little undecided as yet whether to make this a 3 part story, or just keep it as a 2 parter...I'm leaning more and more towards a 3 parter as idea keep flying at me, however, so for the time being, lets just assume that this is part 2 of 3, whilst Duel of the Fates is part 1.**

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter, and if there are any questions you may have, I'll be happy to answer them, although I'm sure all will be revealed in later chapters anyway.**

**So enjoy, and please review, as always! Even constructive critisism is welcome...after all, nobody's perfect, hehe.**

**...**

It took several hours for Dante and Mordred to sneak their way from the top of Lord Eldred's castle to the bottom, checking each and every room they came across, first for signs of Morgana - then for signs of any hidden passages that could be concealing secondary rooms. They also searched for Lord Eldred's missing signet ring, which he'd dropped in his hurry to evacuate after the Saxons invaded.

He'd heard that the pair were intending to 'scout' his castle, and had offered a handsome reward if they could find his missing ring, that had apparently been a gift from his late wife.

It had been close to midnight when they'd first entered the castle. Now, as Dante glanced out of the window whilst Mordred searched under the mattress of the large bed that occupied this particular room, she could see that it was almost noon. They'd been in this hell hole for twelve hours already, and still had not been caught? That had to be a record, even for them! And considering they'd had three years of practice at sneaking into enemy territories, that was saying something!

"Got it!" Mordred hissed triumphantly, crawling back out from under the bed, brandishing a golden ring.

"Is it the right one?" Dante asked, creeping to the door and peering out to ensure the coast was still clear.

"Who cares?" Mordred replied as he tucked the ring into a pocket of his leather jerkin. "He asked us to get him a ring. We've got a ring. Let's go."

Dante really couldn't be bothered to argue now, so she just shrugged and led the way out into the deserted corridor.

Considering this was supposed to be the main Saxon stronghold, they'd barely seen anyone during their snooping. The few Saxons they had seen hadn't even noticed their presence, as they'd blended into shadows or hidden in alcoves. And there was no sign of the Saxon leader anywhere.

"Which way now?" Mordred asked, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him. Dante looked left, then right, then left again, realising that she actually didn't know. All the corridors in this damned place were the same! She'd lost track of when they'd turned left, and when they'd turned right, when they'd gone straight on, and when they'd doubled back on themselves.

"Bloody run-around twisted shite of a maze," she grumbled, trying to remember which way they'd come down this particular corridor.

"Ooh. You've learned some new words," Mordred grinned, impressed. Dante shrugged.

"Not all the books in Camelot's library are high literature."

"Obviously."

She offered him a quick, mischievous grin before starting off to their right, deciding that if this was the wrong way, she'd find a part of the castle that she DID remember, and they could go from there. If it was the right way, then that was even better.

...

During the time they had been searching the castle from top to bottom, Morgana had been subjected to two more bouts of torturous interrogation sessions.

Now, all she could feel was a mind numbing pain all over, and she was also sure that had it lasted just those few minutes longer, she would have finally cracked under the pressure. In such a weakened state, she couldn't even find the energy to summon her magic. She couldn't heal herself, or even tolerate the pain as they unleashed cruel torture technique after cruel torture technique upon her, trying to force her to talk.

But no matter whether she was with Arthur, or against him, she would never, EVER betray him to animals like these.

Still, the end was drawing near. She could feel it. And she knew that it would end one of only two ways - death by torture, or death by execution.

After all she'd done...all she'd been through, and that was how she was destined to die? The Cailleach had been wrong. Emrys would not be her doom after all. The Saxons would.

Morgana didn't know if she should be relieved by this prospect. Emrys truly scared the life out of her, and the thought of dying by his hands was more terrifying than the thought of having to endure another torture session.

But then she had no desire to die at all, so the thought of meeting her doom by Saxons also filled her with equal parts fear and disappointment.

After all, if she'd ever been given a chance to choose her death, this wouldn't have been the way she'd wanted to go. She'd have gone down fighting - preferably against Emrys...or Arthur. Maybe she'd have taken Gwen with her...if she could have faced that prospect when the time had come. She'd definitely have taken Merlin down with her, though!

But now, she'd never get that chance.

And as she once again hung pitifully limp in the shackles of her own personal hell, blood dripping down her arm from her earlier escape attempt (and the torture session reopening the wound), still dressed in the tattered remains of her black robes, hair unkempt and pale skin dark with dirt, grime and blood, Morgana could hold her composure no longer.

She finally gave in to her grief and a single tear dripped down her cheek, leaving a white trail through the dirt that had accumulated during her three year imprisonment.

...

Meanwhile outside the dungeons, Mordred and Dante were arguing.

Again.

As they'd moved further and further down through the levels of the cliff top castle, Morgana's screams had become louder and more painful to listen to. Each time there was an agonizing, bloodcurdling scream from somewhere, the pair would pick up their pace, until three floors from the bottom, they had abandoned the idea of searching each individual room, and had simply followed the cries, instead.

Mordred had tried to speak to Morgana telepathically, but either she was too weak to hear him, or too weak to reply - he did not know. Either way, he was getting no answer.

"I told you the dungeons would be at the bottom!" He argued now, as they crouched behind a stack of wooden crates oddly filled with hay and nothing else. Whatever the hay had been protecting within the crates had been removed already, and the empty boxes left down here until they were needed once again.

"Well what idiot has their dungeons _below sea level!_" Dante argued back vehemently in a fierce whisper.

"If we'd come here in the first place, like I'd wanted to - "

"Then we'd never have found Lord Eldred's ring."

"Screw Lord Eldred!"

"No thanks, he's not my type."

"No?" Mordred asked, his eyebrow rising slyly. "Well, now that Gwaine's come to his senses and given you the boot, I'm surprised you haven't been on the hunt for another fish to trap in your net."

"Too far, Mordred," Dante growled suddenly. She could tolerate most of his jests and taunts, taking them with a pinch of salt, or letting them in one ear and out the other - but anything concerning Gwaine was a sore subject for her, and Mordred knew it. Bringing him into any argument was a low blow, and was the quickest way for him to earn himself a slap.

The only thing that saved him now was the timely arrival of a pair of guards, starting their stint outside the only occupied cell in the entire dungeon.

Dante and Mordred were supposed to be waiting for the period between shifts when there were no guards, so that they could sneak in and get Morgana safely away before the next shift arrived, but somehow they'd ended up getting into yet another argument and had missed their cue.

"Alright, change of plan," Mordred hissed as they peered between the gap in the crates, their argument now forgotten - although he could feel just from the air between them, that Dante was still seething about the Gwaine comment. Well, it wasn't Mordred's fault that the two of them had had a blazing row and split up, over a year ago now, was it?

Since forming their alliance, Dante had blamed Mordred for a lot of things - and in fairness, he had given her plenty of reasons to...but even so, it wasn't his fault that she and Gwaine were no longer together! He couldn't be held responsible, and it had been over a year ago now. Why was she still so touchy about the subject? Wasn't it time to move on?

"Fine," she grumbled now, agreeing that a new plan was in order. "So...what do we do?"

"We'll need their uniforms," he said thoughtfully. "Then we can walk right out the front door, and nobody will even notice."

"Nothing's ever that easy."

"Got a better idea?"

"...No."

"Then here's the plan. I'll take the big brute on the left, you take the smaller brute on the right."

"Why do I get the smaller one? I'm perfectly capable of handling the big guy!"

"Just because you cheated in that duel against Percival, does not mean you are capable of tackling every walking mountain we come across! Besides, you're smaller. You'll need the smaller uniform."

"I still don't see why we need their uniforms," she complained as they watched the two guards set down their weapons beside them against the walls and settle down for a long shift. "We've made it this far without any."

"Do you ever stop complaining?!" He snapped. "Fine, we'll do it your way." And he gave her a hefty shove, forcefully ejecting her from behind the crates and into the open expanse of the main dungeon.

"What the - " she started to protest, forgetting to whisper, as she clambered back to her feet. The two guards turned in unison at her sudden appearance, then snatched up their weapons. Dante froze like a terrified rabbit in the eyes of a hungry wolf. Then she began to back slowly away as the Saxons advanced upon her.

"Now, let's not be too hasty," she started, holding her hands up in surrender. "I got lost...that's all. I'm looking for the kitchens, actually. You couldn't point me in the right direction, could you?"

One of the Saxons snarled something, pointing his sword at her exposed throat as she backed up against the far wall, with nowhere left to run.

"Apparently not," she gulped, looking in Mordred's direction, only to find that he had vanished. Casting all around furiously for him, she saw him slinking towards the now unguarded cell - a good idea in principle, to take advantage of the guards' distraction, but this now left Dante to deal with both men on her own.

"You bloody druid bastard!" She called out after him, as the two guards made to grab her arms. When they heard the word 'druid' however, they froze, looking to one another uncertainly. After all, magic was feared just as much in their lands as it was in these. Dante took the opportunity to duck under their arms and sprint after Mordred.

"Magic!" She snapped as she sprinted past him, the guards now hot on her heels. "Use! Now!"

With a roll of his eyes, Mordred flicked his wrist as if he were swatting at a fly, and just as Morgana herself had done to so many unsuspecting victims in the past, he sent the two guards crashing into the far wall. They crumbled and fell in a heap, unconscious.

He turned triumphantly towards where Dante was now leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath after her impromptu sprint, and was fully expecting a tongue lashing from the Lady. After all, she wasn't one to mince her words, and had an incredibly sharp tongue when she was truly angry.

This was why he was amazed to find her just staring into the cell that the Saxons had been guarding, all the colour draining from her face.

"Oh you poor, poor thing," she muttered quietly, her voice raw with emotion all of a sudden. He knew then, that they had found Morgana. And he also knew that what he saw in that cell would not be pretty.

Steeling his heart and preparing himself for the worst, he strode into the cell and his breath caught. He could barely recognize her, and at first wondered if they'd possibly made some mistake. Was this another unfortunate prisoner they had stumbled across?

But then, as the woman raised her miserable eyes, he could see the unmistakable emerald green - dulled and lifeless, but familiar none-the-less.

Doing his best not to look at her pitiful form, he strode forward, unsheathed his sword and hacked at the bolts on the walls. Dante hurried in moments later to find Morgana on her hands and knees, struggling to her feet on uneasy legs as the chains - still attached to her wrists - rattled and clanked noisily.

Mordred rejoined them and pulled Morgana to her feet. She gripped tightly onto his arms for support, as he looked to Dante. "Start a fire. Burn this place to ashes and make those animals pay for what they've done!"

"With pleasure," Dante nodded grimly, forcing herself to tear her eyes from Morgana's pale, gaunt face.

She ran back to the guards and relieved them of their keys. Then she rummaged their pockets and found Morgana's healing bracelet, which she took as well. As she stood, one of the guards began to groan and stir, so she booted him heavily in the side of the head, hearing the audible crack of his skull as it shattered under the impact.

Then she set about positioning the crates more strategically and spreading the hay all around the immediate area.

Morgana, meanwhile, clung to Mordred, but there was no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him. Though why would there be? He'd been just a boy of ten, last time she'd seen him. Now he was a grown man of eighteen. So this did not surprise him.

"What are you doing?" She rasped, her voice barely audible, as it finally dawned on her that he was no Saxon.

Rather than make her walk, he carefully scooped her into his arms, appalled at the fact she weighed next to nothing. Even his jousting armour weighed more than she currently did!

"Rescuing you," he said curtly, not really knowing where to begin.

"Why?" She asked, then folded into a series of choking coughs as he stepped back out into the corridor to find that Dante had successfully set several of the straw lined cells ablaze, as well as the main entrance to the dungeons and the wooden steps leading up into the rest of the castle.

"Don't worry about that now," he told Morgana as Dante emerged through the thick smoke, one of her sleeves torn off and tied over her nose and mouth. Her other sleeve was also missing, and he briefly wondered where it might be, before she stepped forward and answered the question for him.

"Here," her muffled voice came through the folds of fabric over her mouth. And she reached up, tying the other sleeve over his own nose and mouth for him. The effect was instantaneous, and whilst the material smelt both a mixture of sweat and dirt, it was better than the suffocating smoke that he would otherwise have breathed in. There was also the slight hint of incense, though he knew that Dante had stopped wearing any kind of perfume long ago, because its lingering scent could give her away when she was trying to sneak through an enemy camp. This perfume must have been her natural one then - and it wasn't entirely unbearable. He was definitely beginning to see what Gwaine had seen in this woman, now.

Even dressed in a man's leathers, covered in smoke and dirty from the lack of a descent wash in days, she still had a natural beauty about her. She was one of these people, he decided, who could probably fall in a muck heap and come up smelling of roses.

Remembering his manners just in time, he nodded his thanks, and motioned for her to lead the way. As she started off towards the other end of the dungeons, a ring of keys dangling from her hand, Mordred adjusted his grip on Morgana so that he was cradling her in one arm. Then he took a flaming torch from its bracket on the wall and threw it into the mound of straw that had been piled in the far corner and was usually used for lining the cells.

The mound erupted almost immediately, and Morgana flinched in his arms, trying to escape the sudden burst of heat. He cradled her close, using both arms to hold her once more, and she buried her head in his chest.

"You're sure this is the way out?" he asked Dante as he ascended a flight of stone steps to join her. She stood before the only other oak door in the dungeon, searching for the right key.

"Most dungeons have two exits," she informed him. "One that leads outside, and one that leads to the castle."

"And you know this, how?"

"My father once told me. He said the outside entrance was so that new prisoners could be brought in quickly, without disturbing the rest of the castle, and the inside entrance was so that they could be summoned before the ruling Lord when he saw fit."

"If you say so," Mordred nodded, though he could already feel a slight breeze of fresh air coming from under the door. Behind them, back down the stairs in the dungeon, they could already hear the confused shouts and cries for help as the Saxons realised their stronghold was burning down around them.

"Oh, time for plan b," Dante snapped suddenly, kicking out with her booted foot. The door buckled, but did not give way completely. She tried again.

Again, nothing happened.

When Mordred lent his own boot, however, the door could not withstand the pressure and crashed outwards, revealing the courtyard, as predicted. Dante looked at him pointedly, and even though he could only see her eyes peeking out above the material of the sleeve, he could well imagine the look she was currently wearing. A look that once again quite clearly said 'I told you so'.

Bursting out into the busy courtyard in broad daylight, smoke belching out from the dungeons behind them probably wasn't the best idea they had - but it certainly took the occupants of the courtyard by surprise and made for a truly spectacular entrance.

Dante and Mordred wasted no time, and streaked across the cobbled square, heading for the portcullis. As Mordred passed another stack of hay - this one reserved for horses to feast upon, his eyes glowed golden and the pile erupted, which in turn lit up the ivy that crawled up the side of the building.

Mordred muttered something under his breath as they ran, and the flames jumped even higher, igniting everything they touched. Within minutes, the whole castle seemed to be aflame, windows shattering as fire and smoke belched out.

Saxons screamed and charged about in panic, and nobody even paid them a blind bit of attention as they raced across the bridge and out into the open expanse of grassland outside the castle.

Veering off the dusty road and running towards the small patch of forest further inland, away from the cliff edge, they found Vixen and Borealis thankfully still waiting where they'd left them.

Assuming that Morgana would be in no fit state to ride when they found her, the pair had acquired a small wooden cart that the two horses were currently hitched to. It was light and fast, and made for the perfect getaway vehicle.

Mordred laid Morgana gently onto the pile of furs in the back, then vaulted into the driving seat, whilst Dante leapt in beside Morgana, pulling her bow from her back and knocking an arrow, ready to deal with anyone who may have tried to pursue them from the castle.

Then, with a crack of the whip, they were off through the shelter of the trees painfully slow, at first as Mordred manoeuvred between them. But once the forest began to thin and the muddy, leaf littered terrain turned to more firmer grass underfoot, they quickened the pace until soon they were flying across the rolling hills and meadows through Northumbria and back towards Camelot, hundreds of miles away.

Morgana remained conscious long enough to see the trees overhead be replaced by open blue skies and the odd cloud dotted here and there, before finally the exhaustion, pain and neglect that had been her sole companion for three years took over and pulled her into merciful, painless darkness.

The last thing she remembered was a pair of deep mahogany eyes staring at her anxiously over a strip of dark material. But in her sorry state Morgana simply could not pin who those oh so familiar eyes belonged to.


	3. Magic Returns To Camelot

**Author Note: Hey guys, just coz I'm feeling generous, have another chapter :)...This one is a flashback, set almost immediately after the events at the end of Duel of the Fates.**

**For those of you who can't remember, Dante had gone to the druids to ask for their help, and Iseldir the Chieftain had agreed. Well, this is what happened next.**

_..._

_Dante knew that she was playing with fire, as she rode at the head of the caravan, alongside Iseldir, who was mounted on a gentle bay mare. Evening was falling, and the sun was setting on the horizon, casting them all in a golden glow, whenever it shone through the gaps in the trees, making an odd but very pretty patchwork of green and gold patches for them to ride through._

_ Behind them, the druids who had agreed to help - all but ten from the camp in the hidden clearing, plus another fifteen that had joined them on the road to Camelot - each man, woman and child either walking or sitting upon small wooden supply carts, loaded with provisions (both for the journey, and for Camelot and the inevitable wounded who awaited them). Each cart was drawn by a plucky little pony and driven by anyone not fit enough to walk._

_ The only exceptions to this rule were Dante, Iseldir and Mordred, who all rode their horses at the front of the group. Mordred had quickly talked Iseldir into letting him be Dante's official 'bodyguard' after the pair had spoken about Dante's plans to rescue Morgana, and Mordred's part to play in these plans. As such, he'd been allowed to ride the only other 'big' horse in the camp, a bay stallion who was rather enjoying the company of the two mares and kept nickering to them, trying to catch their attention. The mares, however, were playing hard to get._

_ Still, Iseldir had agreed that the woods were dangerous, and likely crawling with Saxons, so at the first sign of trouble, Dante and Mordred had been instructed to leave the group and gallop for their lives. Dante had not liked the idea of leaving the druids to fend for themselves, but Iseldir assured her that they were more than capable of defending themselves, if the need should ever arise. _

_ Plus, she was much more valuable as a hostage than any of them, and could not allow the Saxons to catch her. In the end, he'd made her swear upon her brother's grave that she would do as she was told, for the sake of her mother's people. She would have sworn upon her mother's grave, had she known for certain that she was dead. But as it was, Dante simply had no idea if her mother was alive and safe somewhere, or...well. That thought still hurt, even after twenty one years, so she tried not to dwell on it._

_ Still, Iseldir must have known that using her brother and mother as leverage was the best way to get Dante to co-operate, because she no longer complained about his suggestion._

_ "The King is not expecting us," he said now, breaking the silence between them. It was just the pair of them, riding alone. Mordred had dropped back some time earlier to see if he could scrounge something to eat from one of the supply carts, promising to bring something back for them if he was successful. _

_ "No doubt he will have a few choice words to say on the matter," Dante shrugged. She was not afraid of Arthur. He was a pussycat compared to his sister. If Dante could survive Morgana's wrath, she was confident she could survive Arthur's._

_ "You should not be so careless about such things," the druid warned her. "Arthur Pendragon is not to be underestimated."_

_ "Neither are the Saxons," Dante replied gravely, all humour gone from her voice now. "If Arthur is wise, he will not turn down help when it is so willingly offered to him, no matter what form it comes in."_

_ Iseldir could not deny this logic of hers, but he still had an uneasy feeling that things would not be as easy as she seemed to think they would be._

_ This was proven to be true as they reached the gates of the lower town. From out of nowhere, guards suddenly sprang, weapons drawn. And they were not just Camelot guards, either. Many of them wore the colours of their respective kings and lords, and it seemed that the kingdoms were now joined off the battlefield, as well as on it. So many men had been wounded during that first battle alone, that the various kings were having to share their own men to cover the security of this one Kingdom._

_ "Hold!" Leon called as he galloped forward on his large bay stallion._

_ "Leon," Dante started, riding forward to meet him with a sweet smile. "Let us through...please?"_

_ "I'm sorry, Milady," he replied with a shake of his head. "The King has ordered your immediate detainment upon your arrival. I'm afraid you're under arrest."_

_ "WHAT?!" She gasped as guards moved forward, grabbing Vixen's reins so that she could not go anywhere. "Arthur can't do this! I demand to see him at once!"_

_ "As you wish, Milady," Leon nodded as the other Round Table Knights fanned out behind him to form a V shape. Gwaine was not with them, however, and Dante frowned. Something must have happened to him._

_ "Where is Gwaine?" she asked worriedly._

_ Before anyone could answer, however, several shouts from behind caused Dante to turn in the saddle, in time to see the druids being apprehended, also. _

_ "Hey, let them go! They've done nothing! They're here by my request! Detain me, if you must, but let them go! Please, Leon!" She protested as Iseldir and Mordred were dragged from their saddles. Iseldir went quietly, but Mordred put up a fuss, knocking down three guards before he was finally detained._

_ Leon froze for a moment, torment written across his fair features. Finally he nodded. "Let them go," he ordered. "Arthur only gave orders for Her Ladyship to be detained...not her companions. But do not let them into the town until I say so."_

_ Reluctantly, the guards let the druids go and stepped back, ready to herd them away from the town instead._

_ "Come, everyone," Iseldir said to the druids. "We will await the Lady Dante in the woods."_

_ Leon nodded to the man in silent thanks, then turned to Dante. "Now, will you come with me?"_

_ "If I must," she huffed, allowing the guards to escort her up to the Citadel, Leon and Percival riding either side of her whilst the other knights boxed her in, front and back._

_ "Looks like Arthur got his way after all," she sighed as they passed into the courtyard._

_ "I'm sorry?" Leon asked, not understanding._

_ Dante shrugged as a guard helped her from the saddle. "He swore that if I didn't return to Camelot, he'd have you and Percival drag me back, anyway. Looks like he got his wish."_

_ "Well perhaps if you hadn't been so stubborn, Milady," Leon started. Taking her by the shoulder and keeping a firm grip on her, he began to lead her inside to the council chambers, where Arthur was waiting._

_ "I'm perfectly capable of finding the way myself, thank you very much," she snapped, trying to break free of his grasp. But he held firm._

_ "Arthur's orders. He's taking no chances with you this time, Milady."_

_ "Figures," Dante rolled her eyes, but eventually gave in, knowing that resistance was futile._

_ As she was brought before Arthur, she took a deep breath. She wasn't scared of him. She'd faced worse than him and survived. She just needed to keep telling herself that, and everything would be alright._

_ One look into his fierce eyes, however, and she crumbled._

_ "What did I tell you?" he said, waving a hand and dismissing the various councillors and guards who occupied the room with him. He even dismissed Leon, so that he and Dante were left alone._

_ "I know," she nodded, angry at herself for sounding so weak. "I'm sorry."_

_ "Sorry?" He echoed. "Sorry isn't good enough, Dante! You're First Lady of this Court! You're supposed to be setting the example for everyone! What kind of example is THAT to set?"_

_ She couldn't bear to look at him then, and instead studied her feet, only now becoming aware of the fact that she was still dressed in the druid robes. Her armour had been tied to the back of Vixen's saddle during the ride back._

_ "I thought I was helping," she attempted a shrug of nonchalance, but her voice almost cracked under the incredible pressure of Arthur's steely glare._

_ "Helping? You went missing, Dante! If Merlin hadn't told me where you'd gone, I'd have sent men out to look for you! I considered doing it anyway, but Leon talked me out of it. He reminded me that there's now a war and we need all the men we can get!"_

_ "Exactly!" Dante seized the chance before it slipped her grasp again. "I was recruiting for you! I went to the druids, to see if they would help. They're not fighters, but they're healers. They can still help!"_

_ "Yes but they won't though, will they," Arthur sighed. "I could have told you that all along and saved you the journey."_

_ "Then you would have been wrong," Dante replied, allowing herself to smile slightly, for the first time. "They're waiting outside the town, now."_

_ "They agreed to help?!" Arthur asked incredulously, sure he must have misheard._

_ "They agreed," Dante confirmed triumphantly. "One hundred and five men, women and children ready to serve you in any way they can, just waiting outside the town for an invitation to be allowed in."_

_ "But...I don't understand...how...?" Arthur faltered. He'd never, in a million years, expected the druids to help._

_ "I offered them safety, protection from the war, and the promise that you would lift the ban on magic," she replied sheepishly. When Arthur opened his mouth to protest, she cut across him quickly. "I had to say something! Besides, who says you won't change your mind, when you see the benefits of having their magic on your side during the war? In fact, I bet you ten pieces of gold that you DO change your mind, before the war is over."_

_ "I'll never change my mind about magic," he said firmly. "And I'll never bet on something that I know is an absolute certainty. I could never take your money, like that."_

_ "Twenty pieces?"_

_ Arthur paused then grinned, unable to stay mad with her any longer. "Done. I hope you have that kind of coin, Milady." _

_ "I look forward to the new dress your money will buy me," she retorted with a grin._

_..._

_Mordred was getting impatient as he paced about on the edge of the woods. The druids had made camps beneath the trees, and all seemed content, except for him._

_ "Mordred please, you're making us restless," Iseldir sighed._

_ "What's taking so long?" He wondered. "She should have come back by now. What if something's happened to her? What if she needs our help?"_

_ "Arthur is not that kind of King," Iseldir said, standing and walking over to place a hand on the young man's shoulder. "He would never let any harm befall her."_

_ "How do you know?" Mordred asked, a little too harshly. Iseldir smiled gently and pointed in the direction of the town._

_ A knight was riding towards them, and Mordred recognized him as the man that Dante had named 'Leon'._

_ "Who is your leader?" he called out to the group as he approached. _

_ Iseldir stepped forward. "I am."_

_ Leon bowed his head in respect, though he did not climb down from his horse. "I am Sir Leon, of the King's Round Table Knights. His Majesty bids you all welcome to his city and hopes that you will make yourselves at home. He apologises for the wait, and is willing to have an audience with you, sir, if you should have any questions."_

_ "Thank you, Sir Leon," Iseldir replied politely, returning a bow of his own head. "I am Iseldir, Chieftain of these people. I should very much like an audience with the King, so that I may convey the gratitude of myself and my people."_

_ "That can be arranged," Leon nodded._

_ "And what of the Lady Dante?" Mordred piped up, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Is she alright?"_

_ Leon smiled then, and nodded. "Rest assured, boy. The Lady Dante is safe and well, as always. Now, if you will follow me, please?"_

_ And he turned his horse to lead them all in through the entrance of the lower town. The druids followed cautiously._

_ This felt so unnatural to them, freely walking into a place such as Camelot. They were used to sneaking and being cautious. To walk about so freely was a new sensation indeed, and it would take some getting used to. They still did not entirely trust Arthur, just yet, but Iseldir seemed to, and they trusted Iseldir, at least, so perhaps things would not be so bad for them, after all._

_..._

_The light rap at the door made Gwaine grin. He knew who that would be...or who he hoped it would be, at least._

_ Easing himself gingerly up in the massive bed, he propped himself up on his elbows and gritted his teeth against the pain._

_ "Enter!" He called out after a moment, hoping that he was right._

_ He was rewarded seconds later when Dante slipped through the door, closing it behind her, then turning to him, horrified._

_ "Oh Gwaine!" She gasped, hurrying to the bed as he tried to ease himself up into a sitting position. The arrow wound stung like hell, and even the slightest movement tugged at the stitches, so in the end he gave up and collapsed back into the pillows again._

_ "I'm alright," he tried to protest as she sat on the edge of the bed, fussing over him, checking his bandage and examining him for other wounds._

_ "You're hurt!" She exclaimed. "Of course you're not alright!"_

_ "I am, now that you've returned to me," he smiled bravely, taking her hands away from the bandage round his side and placing them over his heart instead. "You scared me, running away like that."_

_ "I wasn't running away," she whispered. "I had every intention of returning. With or without the druids."_

_ "And which did you return with?" he asked, allowing her to free one hand so that she could stroke his cheek instead._

_ "One hundred and five men, women and children, eager to help in any way they can," she smiled triumphantly._

_ "That's my girl," he grinned, kissing her hands lightly, one finger at a time. Dante smiled and curled herself up on top of the bed sheets, allowing him to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. _

_ "So tell me," she said once she was comfy in his embrace. "What happened to you?"_

_ So he told her all about the battle and Arthur's last heroic charge, and all the while he was talking, Dante listened quietly, even as she slid the magical ring off her finger and slipped it over Gwaine's little finger instead (as this was the only finger of his that it would fit on). _

_ When he realised what she was doing, he frowned. "What are you - "_

_ "Shhhh," she soothed, reaching up and placing a finger gently over his lips to silence him. "Trust me."_

_ "Always," he agreed. Together they settled down for the night, Gwaine tucked in under the covers, whilst Dante lay on top, still in her druid robes, his arms wrapped about her shoulders and waist to keep her from falling off the edge of the bed._

_ Soon Dante was asleep, her gentle breathing soft and even. But Gwaine had been sleeping for most of the day, and simply wasn't tired any longer. So he contented himself with watching her instead, tracing light patterns on her shoulder with one finger, even as he could feel the magic of the ring beginning to work._

_ The ring had been specifically designed for her, he knew. He'd been there as it was created, after all. But he could still feel the stirrings of something as it snaked through his veins, dulling the pain of the wound in his side. Or maybe he was just imagining things? Maybe the ring wasn't doing anything at all, and it was merely Dante's presence that had distracted his mind from the pain? _

_ Whatever it was, he didn't mind. Dante had returned to him, and was now curled up safely in his arms. Everything was going to be alright._


	4. Camping

**Author Note: Alright guys, here's a little something for all those who are curious about Dante - her backstory, what she looks like etc.**

**rosie-storm. wix the-lady-dante #!home /mainPage**

**(If the link works, just remove the spaces, add dot com after wix and voila...Dante has her own website, lol)**

**In the meantime, enjoy this chapter and see that little area at the bottom that says 'review'? Well...would be much appreciated if you'd take a few seconds of your time to, you know...write one? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?**

**Oh come on people, don't make me beg!**

**...**

By nightfall the small cart and its occupants had passed into Bayard's lands, and Mordred pulled up under a small wooded area, a mile or so from the main road. Mercia was mostly back under Bayard's control now, but on the outskirts, Saxons still patrolled frequently, so the druid didn't want to take any chances.

In the back of the cart, Dante was tending to Morgana with great care. She'd slipped the witch's healing bracelet back on not long after they'd fled the castle, but so far Morgana had yet to waken from unconsciousness and Dante had yet to see any sign that the bracelet was even doing anything.

In the meantime, she'd been dripping water from a flask into the witch's mouth carefully, a little at a time so that she did not choke. Then she'd bathed and dressed the various wounds to the best of her abilities - which was easier said than done when all she had to hand were a few rags and a flask of water, added to the fact that she was currently tending to Morgana in the back of a moving cart that bounced and juddered over every bump and uneven surface.

"How is she?" Mordred asked as he slid from the driver's seat and walked round to the back of the cart.

"Not good," Dante admitted. "I'm amazed she's still alive, in all honesty."

"We'll rest here for the night, and carry on again in the morning," he told her as he reached into the cart and pulled out a few dark folds of material. "The horses need a rest, and so do we."

"Agreed," Dante nodded, only now realising how tired she actually was.

The cart had four upright posts, each five feet tall and joined to each corner of the cart with thick bolts. More could be slotted into brackets at the top of posts, stretched horizontally between them to make a wooden frame over the cart.

When Mordred draped the material over the frame, it created a roof and sides for the cart, turning it into a carriage instead, and protecting those inside it. He fastened the material down with lengths of rope, then unhitched the horses and allowed them to wander freely, in search of food and a place to rest for the night. He knew that they would not wander off very far, as he had set them loose hundreds of times by now, and they had not dared to stray, even once.

When he moved back round to the back of the cart again, he watched Dante rummaging in the corner, under the sacks that had once been full of supplies, but were now empty.

"What's up?"

"I'm sure we had a loaf of bread left. But I can't find it."

"No, we ate the last of it before we arrived in Northumbria," he reminded her as she continued to hunt. "I did tell you, at the time."

"So someone needs to go hunting then," she sighed, giving up her searching, finally.

"By someone, I take it you mean me?" Mordred said, eyebrows rising.

Dante grabbed her bow and quiver, jumped lightly down from the cart and slung them over her shoulder. "Don't trouble yourself, druid," she said curtly. "I'll go."

"I'll go if you want," he replied, knowing full well that she'd reject his offer.

Though this was no surprise, considering the fact that he was a druid and was abjectly against hunting any living creature (killing well armed men was a completely different matter, he insisted, when she'd challenged him about the fact that he would kill men but refused to kill animals). Instead, when he went hunting, he would often return with bulbs, roots and various plants that he would cook into a stew for them. Dante complained each and every time he did this, and in the end had insisted that she needed some 'proper' food. She had now become the designated 'hunter' of the pair of them, and would often provide the food whilst Mordred cooked it. She often grumbled that it would be much easier if she had a falcon, but seeing as they didn't, she had to do the hard work herself.

"Don't go anywhere," she warned, as she started off into the woods.

"Remember," he called back after her. "If you get into trouble, bark like a dog!"

"Sod off!" She retorted. "If I get into trouble I'm yelling 'help'!"

He laughed, watching her vanish into the distance, her pale arms the only part of her visible now, considering the rest of her was clothed in dark material. He laughed again.

"You're right!" He called as she vanished completely. "You do glow in the dark!"

A long string of curses floated back in his direction and he laughed again, shaking his head, before climbing up onto a fallen log so that he could keep watch until her return.

...

Inside the cart, Morgana woke with a start. As soon as Mordred heard her wake, he jumped down from the log and climbed up, kneeling beside her. She stared at him for a moment, still no recognition in her eyes, so he decided to save the introductions until she was more alert and aware of what was going on.

As she clutched one of the thick fur blankets round herself to keep warm, he noticed that Dante had wrapped her misshapen fingers with strips of cloth. He reached for one of her hands, but she pulled it back, unsure if she could trust him. Still, he persisted carefully and very slowly, Morgana allowed him to take her hand. Mordred was shocked by her ravaged condition, and with great effort did his best to keep his feelings from her. Morgana kept her eyes firmly on him, but still she did not speak.

"They've dislocated your fingers," Mordred spoke in a low, gentle voice. "If they stay like this, you may never be able to use them again. I must snap them back into place."

She kept staring into his eyes, searching for something that would allow her to trust him.

"It will hurt," he continued. "I'm not going to lie. It will hurt like hell. But it needs to be done."

Still, she said nothing, but he saw something like the familiar defiance that he'd always known Morgana to have, returning to her eyes. This was more like the woman he knew.

He took one hand gently, grasped one finger, looked straight into her eyes and snapped it back into place.

He expected her to scream again, as she'd done when he'd heard her being tortured back in the castle, but the most she did was squeeze her eyes tight shut, gritting her teeth.

He took the next finger and snapped that back into place.

She gripped his shoulder with her other hand - as much as she was able with dislocated fingers, and after each subsequent snap of bones being realigned, her grip tightened.

Finally, when he moved on to her second hand, prizing it from his shoulder, she was no longer able to remain quiet, and cried out in anguish.

"They tortured me," she gasped after a moment in a hoarse whisper. Mordred looked at her sharply, surprised that she was talking at all.

"They tried to make me tell them Arthur's secrets..." Her voice degenerated into another whimper as he relocated another finger.

"But with each finger," she continued, "I swallowed back my voice. If I do not have a voice, I cannot talk."

Mordred snapped another finger. Somehow bearing the agony, she continued her train of thought. "Then I heard your voice in the dark...saw you and another...a girl."

The last finger was the worst of all. She suppressed a scream and tears ran from her eyes. Mordred pulled her close then, into a fierce embrace, and she allowed him.

"Who...are you?" She asked at last, into his shoulder as he cradled her gently.

"It's me," he said softly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It's your Mordred."

"Mordred?" She gasped, pulling back so that she could look into his eyes. "Mordred?! My goodness, you've grown!"

"So have you," he smiled back. "Grown more beautiful I mean...well, for a High Priestess."

"I...I don't...understand. How did you...How did you know where to find me?"

"You've got the Lady Dante to thank for that," he smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her bruised, battered face.

"Dante?" Morgana repeated. "She survived the ambush?"

"She's survived a lot of things, that girl," Mordred grinned. "And she cares a great deal about you. She's not stopped. _We've _not stopped. For three years, we've been searching for you."

"She was the one with you in those dungeons," Morgana realised as she collapsed weakly back into the mound of furs. Mordred laid another thick fur over the top of her to keep her warm.

"She was," he confirmed gently. Though whether Morgana heard or not, he did not know, because she had slipped back into unconsciousness once more, her pain finally becoming too much to bear.

...

Dante returned a few hours later, a pair of rabbits and a bunch of root vegetables dangling from her belt. She also had an armful of firewood and two flasks, which he suspected were filled with fresh water. He'd never seen her take the flasks from the back of the cart, but then where else would she have gotten them from?

"I'm assuming you had a successful hunting trip then," he smiled, jumping down from the back of the cart where he'd been sitting, watching Morgana sleep. Well, he'd been keeping watch as well, of course...most of the time.

"Get a fire going," Dante sighed as she dropped the wood at his feet. "I'm starving."

"As you wish, Milady," he nodded, waving a hand over the pile and igniting a few of the logs. Once they were blazing away merrily, he piled the others around it to build a sufficient campfire.

"Found a farm, a few leagues north," she said conversationally as she and Mordred set about making a stew over the fire, with the root vegetables that she'd scrounged. "It's completely burnt out - Saxons I'm guessing. But a few crops were still intact, so I took what I could find."

"Would explain why the firewood's ready cut then," he nodded in understanding. "Any sign of whoever lived there?"

"There's a few tracks leading away from the farm in the opposite direction to the Saxon horde, so I'm guessing they escaped unharmed. There were no bodies, so far as I could see, at least."

"That's good then," Mordred nodded, before he raised the spoon to taste the stew. "Needs a bit more," he decided, before adding some of the herbs that Dante had also collected. She, meanwhile, had begun to roast the meat over a separate, much smaller but no less fierce fire.

"So...who's turn is it for first watch?" She asked as she turned the spit steadily.

"I'll go first," he offered, before tasting the stew again. This time it was more to his satisfaction, and he nodded. "Fetch the bowls."

Jumping lightly to her feet, Dante reached into the back of the cart, then paused.

"You're awake!" She beamed, seeing Morgana staring back at her from under the mound of furs.

"Dante?" Morgana muttered uncertainly.

"I'm here, Milady," Dante nodded, vaulting lightly into the cart. Morgana reached out a trembling hand, and Dante took it at once, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're safe now."

"Thank...you," Morgana nodded.

"Don't mention it," Dante smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"A little."

Very slowly, Dante helped her down out of the cart, and over to where Mordred was sitting on the fallen log, warming his hands over the fire. Then, sitting herself on the floor cross-legged beside the fire, she began to dish out the stew and carve the meat. Mordred, of course, refused the rabbit, but ate the stew, whilst Morgana had a huge helping of both. She wasn't sure that she'd be able to eat it, after having barely any food for so long, but Dante encouraged her to eat as much as she was able, to build her strength back up, and eventually Morgana managed to eat about half of what was in her bowl.

After he'd finished his own meal, Mordred tossed his wooden bowl into the fire, and when Dante had finished, she did the same. Morgana watched them curiously.

"Water is harder to come by than wood, these days," Mordred explained, seeing her quizzical expression. "The Saxons have poisoned so many water sources, trying to deprive us and force us into surrender, that it's now become easier to just burn our dishes and carve new ones each time, rather than cart them with us until we find fresh water to wash them in."

"Are things really so bad?" Morgana wondered. So as Mordred explained what had been happening in the three years that she'd been imprisoned, Dante watched her curiously. She noticed that Morgana never looked towards the fire, always choosing instead to look into shadow or darkness. When she DID look at anything light, she squinted and winced.

It would be horrible for her tomorrow, when the sun came up. Still, after three years of darkness, it was to be expected that the light would hurt the witch's eyes until she got used to it once again.

"And Arthur let you come after me?" Morgana was now saying, as Dante forced herself to listen back in to the conversation.

"Again, you've got Dante to thank for that," Mordred grinned, nodding in Dante's direction. "She badgered and pestered Arthur until he finally gave in."

"Well not exactly. He thinks we're scouting for him, observing his enemies and keeping track of the Saxon movements," Dante nodded proudly. "He told us that if we were to find any prisoners, we should return them to him in Camelot so he may question them about the Saxons, as well. I don't think he ever expected us to find you, though. That'll be a bit of a shocker for him."

"I'm sure it will," Morgana nodded. Then she stifled a yawn.

Seeing this, Mordred sighed. "I'll take first watch. You two should get some sleep."

Dante agreed to this and helped Morgana back to her feet. The witch was still weak, and so light that Dante had no trouble carrying her all by herself. Mordred was right. She weighed so little, it was scary!

Once Morgana had collapsed once again on the mound of furs, Dante made sure that she was comfortable, then curled up on the wooden floor in the opposite corner, burying herself under the familiar red of a Camelot Knight's cloak.

"You are used to sleeping rough?" Morgana asked sleepily, noting that Dante seemed perfectly content.

"I used to join my father and brothers on hunts when I was little. I lived in the wild as part of a bandit camp before you rescued me from them," Dante shrugged, her head emerging from under the cloak. "And the best part of the last three years, I've spent living like this as Mordred and I searched for you. I'm no stranger to these conditions now...and truth be told, I'm growing quite fond of them. There's only so much wining and dining and fancy clothing and pomp and ceremony a woman can stand, after all."

"Back in that cell, I dreamed for so long of those luxuries," Morgana mused. "To sleep in a proper bed again...to eat proper food...to see daylight once more..."

"You will do, soon enough," Dante assured her, fighting back a yawn. "I promise."

Some time later, when Mordred checked on both women, he saw that they were both deep in peaceful slumber - Morgana on her mound of furs, Dante on the hard wood of the cart, with just the knight's cloak for warmth. But she did not look uncomfortable.

Still, considering that she had spent many a long night sleeping on the hard cold ground beneath the stars - as had he - perhaps the relative confines of the cart were a luxury.

_How times have changed, _he thought bitterly to himself as he moved to sit back beside the fire. _And what will happen when we reach Camelot? That is one family reunion I DO NOT look forward to._

...

Dawn rose with an orange glow in Camelot, and Arthur stretched lazily in his bed, yawning loudly - as proud and arrogant as a lion waking from his slumber.

Beside him in the huge bed, Guinevere smiled and rolled over, wrapping her arm about her husband's strong chest and snuggling into him. "Good morning, Sire."

"Good morning, my love," he replied, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "You're awake early?"

"I'm always awake early," Gwen shrugged. "I used to wake at this hour every morning to begin my chores."

Arthur took one of her hands and kissed her soft, calloused palm. Four years as his Queen had not softened the years of hard work that had weathered her hands when she'd been a serving girl, and he doubted they would ever become 'noble' hands. They would always be marred with hard work. But that is why he loved her even more. She had known hardship. She had worked her way up to where she was today, through blood, sweat and tears. This position of great honour had not been handed to her on a silver platter - she had earned it.

"Merlin came by earlier," she said conversationally. "It seems he rises even earlier than I do."

Arthur groaned. "No doubt he had something tedious to bore me with."

"He said he bore news from Northumbria," Gwen replied, waiting for Arthur's reaction. It took Arthur a moment to register her words - then he sat bolt upright, knocking her accidentally aside.

"He has news? What news? Why wasn't I woken?"

"Well, he did try," Gwen smiled, sitting up beside him. "But you were so deeply asleep that in the end I told him to finish his chores and I'd pass the message on myself."

"And?" Arthur asked impatiently.

"And, Lord Eldred's castle was razed to the ground yesterday afternoon," Gwen informed him, watching once again for his reaction.

"Lord Eldred's castle?" Arthur repeated. "Isn't that where Dante and Mordred...?"

"Two figures were seen fleeing the castle, one of them clutching a bundle. The Saxons are in disarray. They've lost their strongest foothold and have nowhere left to regroup. Small bands of them were seen fleeing in all directions. Many lords have already reported a record number of Saxon prisoners in their dungeons. The rest were seen heading towards the coast."

"We finally have them on the run?" Arthur laughed in delight. "That is truly music to my ears!" He turned and grabbed Gwen then, pulling her in and kissing her passionately, all his joy and his delight poured into that one action, so much so that when he let her go once more, she fell backwards into the bed, laughing so hard that her sides hurt.

"Merlin!" Arthur bellowed, leaping from bed, hurrying to his wardrobe and grabbing a fresh shirt. "MERLIN!"

As always, his faithful friend was never far away, and bounded into the room almost immediately.

"You bellowed?" he asked, glancing quickly at Gwen, still abed, then blushing and looking away. Gwen coughed lightly in embarrassment and slid further under the sheets.

"Summon the council," Arthur was saying as he fastened his belt round his waist and threw on his brown leather jacket. "We have them! We finally have them, Merlin! Soon, the war will be over!"

"That is good news," Merlin nodded, although the tone of his voice told Arthur that there was something he was holding back.

"What?" The King asked, suddenly suspicious. "What is it? Spit it out, Merlin!"

"You know that it was the Lady Dante and Mordred who razed the castle?" Merlin asked, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"Of course I do!" Arthur beamed. "The pair of them may have single-handedly won this war for us, and I intend to reward them as soon as they return!"

"You may want to hold back on the reward, just yet," Merlin replied, his hands wringing nervously in front of him. "The witnesses who saw them fleeing the scene reported to Lord Berric, whose messenger rode through the night to get here with the news this morning."

"And?" Arthur asked impatiently.

"And they had someone with them, Sire," Merlin said then, taking a deep breath before he delivered the news that could potentially ruin Arthur's very good mood. "It was confirmed this morning as they crossed the borders back into Camelot."

"And?" Arthur asked again, not getting the hint. But Gwen had, and gasped, all the colour draining from her face as realisation dawned.

"And?" Arthur demanded when he assumed that Merlin was not going to answer.

"And...They've found her, Arthur. They've found Morgana."


	5. Morgana Returns To Camelot

**Author Note: Hey everyone. Here's another chapter for you, which starts with a flashback, and then moves into the present once more. I won't say much, as I'm sure you're all far more interested in the story anyway, lol, but all I will say is that I have been seriously neglecting Gwaine's love of apples, right up until now, so as I promised one very loyal fan, I've made up for it in this chapter.**

**Gwaine's apple fetish has been satisfied, for now, so he should be happy again for a little while - until Dante annoys him, that is.**

**So enjoy, and please review! **

**...**

_Merlin had to find out if the dragons were alright. Aithusa may have saved Morgana's life and earned Kilgharra's wrath, but Merlin had brought him into this world and felt a sense of responsibility towards his wellbeing, never-the-less. If anything had happened to either of them, he would never forgive himself._

_ So, as he stepped into the familiar clearing and called out for them both, he was not sure what he would be greeted with._

_ Hours seemed to pass, before finally a dark shape descended from above, and the Great Dragon landed incredibly lightly in the grass, considering how huge he was. A fresh scar had appeared along his snout, and several scales were missing around his neck and throat, bearing patches of thick black skin beneath. There was a small tear to one wing - thought this did not hinder his flight in any way, it would appear - and one claw was missing from a hind foot, but otherwise he looked relatively unharmed._

_ "It's good to see you safe," Merlin smiled, relieved. "I was afraid for you."_

_ "A touching sentiment, Young Warlock, but there really is no need," Kilgharra nodded, settling himself into the grass. "We dragons are made of strong stuff."_

_ "And what of...what of Aithusa?" Merlin ventured, wondering if he should even dare to speak the name._

_ "Aithus will not be joining us this night..." the dragon replied at last, no hint of the anger he had shown towards the young dragon when Merlin had last seen him. "He is up in the mountains, nursing his wounds and his pride."_

_ "But he is alive?" Merlin needed to clarify this fact before he could allow himself to relax._

_ "He is," the dragon nodded. "Do not think I would be so foolish as to kill my own kin, Merlin. We are the last of our kind, and as much as he may have insulted us with his actions, he is but a child still, with much to learn. I will not kill a child. Not even a human one."_

_ "I'm sorry it came to that," Merlin sighed, feeling utterly responsible now. "If I'd known what he was going to do - "_

_ "You would not have been able to stop him," the dragon cut across. "And the blame does not rest on your shoulders. You have much resting on them already. You do not need more."_

_ "But...but he helped Morgana," Merlin protested. "I could have stopped him!"_

_ "He was always destined to aid the witch, just as she was always destined to betray her own flesh and blood."_

_ "She was always destined to betray Arthur?" Merlin pondered. "Why didn't you warn me, when we first met? All those times I helped Morgana, I could have...I don't know...changed her. Or tried to. Then none of this would have happened."_

_ "The future is not easy to change, Young Warlock. And it was not Arthur I was meaning when I spoke of her betrayal."_

_ "But...he's her brother..." Merlin replied, not understanding. "What other family does she have that she could...oh..."_

_ "You are understanding me now?" Kilgharra asked, seeing the realisation finally shining in Merlin's young eyes._

_ "She's going to betray Dante?" _

_ "She is. Just as she was always destined to."_

_ "But...what will happen to Dante?"_

_ "That, Merlin, is entirely up to you. You, and you alone, hold the power to decide her fate, through your actions."_

_ "How?" Merlin didn't like the sound of this one bit. He was already in two minds about Dante, as it was. Being told that he would be the one to decide her fate was not exactly an idea he relished._

_ "The alliance between Mordred and the Lady Dante is fragile at best. They will unite through their loyalty to Morgana. They will put all differences aside in light of this common goal, but make no mistake. No love flows between them. As soon as their common goal is accomplished, Mordred will turn on Dante, and the union between himself and Morgana will come to pass. When this happens, Dante will be cast out by her own kin."_

_ "And will join Arthur, instead?" Merlin couldn't decide if this would be a good thing or not. After all, there was no guarantee that she would actually join Arthur, just like that. And why would Morgana turn on her?_

_ And which alliance should he fear more? Dante and Morgana? Or Mordred and Morgana?_

_ "As I have said, Merlin, the girl's fate rests in your hands. And yours alone. If you stop this union now, then you will set into motion a series of events that lead to her death. If you let the path run its course, you will have the chance to spare her life."_

_ Merlin processed that thought for a considerable length of time - it was not one to be taken lightly after all. His actions would somehow decide whether Dante lived or died. He might not like or trust the woman right now, but did she deserve to die?_

_ "I will leave you to your ponderings, Young Warlock. The sun is rising and soon the kingdom shall wake." The Great Dragon stood and stretched his wings, early rays of morning sunlight streaming through the tear in his wing, casting a spotlight on Merlin._

_ "Wait! I thought you refused to help her?! Why are you telling me all this now?" Merlin called as the huge creature took to the air. He had so many more questions to ask now, after this revelation. But it was too late. The dragon was gone, and Merlin found himself alone once more._

_..._

_Later that morning, the city was buzzing with people chattering about the dragon they had seen, flying off into the skies. There was no sign of the 'White Demon' as they had named Aithusa, and the people were rejoicing. Cor, son of Cordin and leader of the Saxons, bore a white dragon on his banner, so people had quickly assumed that Aithusa belonged to him. As such, that had automatically made him an enemy of Camelot, and Kilgharra had become known as "The Pendragon" - the rumours suggesting that he was the great dragon that Uther had locked beneath Camelot, and who Arthur now owned as a pet. _

_ Kilgharra was now seen as the Champion of Camelot (and effectively the rest of Albion - people forgetting about his little rampage after he was first set free), and to see him soaring through the skies with no sign of the 'White Demon' in sight gave the people hope. _

_ The Pendragon had defeated the White Demon. This surely meant that Arthur would defeat Cor in a similar way - or so the people were now claiming. They were saying that victory was already in sight, it had been written in the stars and destiny had already chosen its victor._

_ If they had known that the war would rage for another three years before Cor admitted to defeat, however, they may not have been so eager to believe in the 'signs'._

_..._

As Mordred's cart trundled into the courtyard, a swarm of knights in their brightly coloured cloaks - each representing the respective Kings and lords that they served - moved to surround it, weapons drawn and aimed in the cart's direction.

Mordred merely sat in the driver's seat, wondering what the hell he should do now.

"My Lady?" he called back as more men moved to create a second circle around the first, each armed with spears three feet taller than themselves.

Dante poked her head out the back of the cart, then grumbled and climbed down.

"Who is in charge, here?!" She called out to the assembled knights. None of them moved, and though not all of them recognized her, they recognized her authority and looked at one another nervously.

"Leon?!" She continued, ignoring them and looking all about. "Is this your work?!"

"Perhaps it is, My Lady," the knight finally spoke up, pushing through the crowd of knights to stand before her, Percival, Gwaine, Tristan and Elyan following. They were no longer the only knights of Arthur's round table - over the past three years he had recruited more and more men to their elite order - but these five would always be the first - and the best - of them all.

"Don't tell me, I'm under arrest again?" She folded her arms over her chest, fixing him with a penetrating stare that would have any other man quivering in his boots, or falling to his knees to beg her forgiveness. But Leon knew her too well by now. For all her bark, the Lady Dante had a very delicate bite, and rarely used it upon those she considered her friends. These five were like brothers to her - even Gwaine (despite being her ex), and she would never harm any of them willingly. So she could bark at him all she wanted, because he knew she'd never bite.

"I am acting as per His Majesty's request," Leon replied formally - doing his best to behave appropriately in front of the gathering crowd - which consisted of not just the circle of knights and guards now, but ordinary folk as well. If they were alone, he would be using none of the formalities, as he knew how much Dante hated them. And he would not be holding back on exactly what he thought of the entire situation, either.

"As was I, Sir," Dante replied, equally putting on a show of her best behaviour - or at least her best manners. Her behaviour, as usual, left a lot to be desired. " Was it not Arthur himself who wanted every prisoner of the Saxons freed and brought to Camelot so that he could question them about the Saxons who had taken them? I have one such prisoner, yet now, here you stand, claiming that I am to be reprimanded for following his orders?"

A bristle of murmurs ran through the assembled crowds - knights, guards and citizens alike. Leon knew then that she was playing him - and currently winning. If he did not let her go, then Arthur would look like an oath breaker - a man who went back on his word - and the people would lose their faith in him. Considering he was one of the few kings petitioning to be crowned High King of Albion, this would not work well for him, if he were to lose favour with his subjects.

"I cannot break an order given to me by His Majesty," he said at last. "Or I shall become the oath breaker."

"Disobedient knights are punished and quickly forgotten for their crimes," Dante replied curtly. "A dishonourable King, however, is never forgotten. That mark will forever stain his reputation."

Leon wanted to protest, but she was right. If he disobeyed Arthur, nobody would care much, so long as he was punished accordingly. If Arthur went back on his word, however, or punished someone for following his orders...well, the consequences could be dire for the young king indeed.

"Damn it, woman," he grumbled, knowing that he had no choice. "Let them go!"

He gave the order to the knights, who reluctantly lowered their weapons and skulked off, disappointed. To have apprehended a wanted villain such as Morgana would have given them plenty to talk about for years to come - maybe even stories to be passed down through the generations. Dante had robbed them of that chance, however, so now they would have to find their fame and their glory elsewhere.

As they left, Leon looked Dante straight in the eye.

"Well played," he congratulated quietly so that no-one else would hear. "Though I should be careful if I were you. Keep that up and you'll earn a reputation for being a trickster. And tricksters cannot be trusted."

"Is that a threat, Sir?" Dante challenged.

"Consider it a friendly piece of advice," he replied, turning away. "Mordred, come!"

Mordred shrugged at Dante, jumped down from the driver's seat and followed his mentor away towards the knights barracks. Despite it being three years since he'd come to Camelot with Dante and the other druids, Mordred was only considered a junior guardsman, still in training. As such, he had been paired with Leon, to learn the ropes, until he was deemed worthy enough to actually be knighted and join the other elite knights of the round table.

As they left, Tristan and Elyan excused themselves to go back to their duties (in Tristan's case) and inform Arthur of Dante's return (in Elyan's case), whilst Percival moved round to the back of the cart.

This left Dante and Gwaine, standing awkwardly opposite one another, neither able to look the other squarely in the eye.

"You should have left her," Gwaine said eventually.

"Three weeks I've been away, and that is all you can say to me upon my return?" Dante scolded, though her words did not come out nearly as harshly as she'd intended them to.

"You know how I feel about _her," _Gwaine replied.

"Yes...you made your feelings perfectly clear three years ago," Dante nodded, this time managing to put more anger and conviction into her voice.

"She tortured me, Dante!" Gwaine protested then, apparently willing to start up the old argument once more. "She fought us in Ealdor! She commanded Lot to kill you! And that is just the start of a very, and I mean VERY long list of crimes she's committed against this realm."

"Save your breath Gwaine," Dante sighed, rubbing her forehead. She could feel the stirrings of a migraine coming. "I've heard it all before."

"Yes, but you don't LISTEN!" He snapped. "You never listen, and perhaps it's time you started! Mark my words, Dante! She brings trouble!"

"Consider them marked," Dante nodded, turning away as Percival straightened, Morgana in his huge arms. She looked lost amongst the folds of her clothing and the thick muscles of his arms, and it was only now that Dante was able to see for the first time how pitifully frail she was.

She raised a bony, chalk pale hand to shield the sunlight from her eyes as she turned her face into Percival's shoulder, and her arm was stick thin, cut and bruised from the cruel shackles that had restrained her. A sideways glance towards Gwaine told Dante that he was in shock - she could see it in his eyes.

"Look at her," she said to him as Percival carried the witch past, heading for Gaius' tower. "Look at her, Gwaine, and then tell me I should have left her to her fate."

"I...I..." he started and stopped several times, but simply could not come up with the words to condemn Dante's actions.

"Those crimes you mentioned?" Dante spoke as she headed off after Percival. "I think she's paid for them tenfold by now, don't you?"

"Yes," he conceded. "Yes, perhaps she has." Even he could not deny that nobody deserved such a fate as that. He would not have wished it upon his worst enemy - even Morgana.

"Your cloak's in the back of the cart."

Without another word, Gwaine moved round to the back of the cart and retrieved his cloak - the one Dante had slept beneath every night. Draping it over one arm, he watched her retreating form, then sighed.

He HATED Morgana for what she'd done. Why couldn't Dante see that? Why did she have to think that he was being so dramatic? Couldn't she see the danger this woman - this witch - posed?

Turning away from her, he quickly found an excuse to take his mind off things - namely an old woman stumbling under a basket of apples.

"Here, My lady, let me," he said quickly taking the basking from her and hefting it under one arm, his spare cloak draped over the top.

"Oh thank you greatly, Sir," the woman smiled as he extended his other arm for her to lean on for support.

"Now tell me where you were headed, young lady," he said, giving her one of his roguish grins. The old woman blushed.

"I haven't been called that in quite some time. And you're young enough to be my grandson, you know," she chided as they started off towards her home. Then she laughed, and Gwaine laughed right along with her. "And to what can I give you in return, Sir Knight, for such chivalry?"

"One of these fine apples is all the payment I require, My good Lady."

"Then help yourself, Sir Knight."

...

Gaius had never seen anyone in as poor a condition as Morgana. Even the poor of Camelot, who died homeless in the streets were in better condition that she was. It was so easy to forget, as you looked upon her, how terrible and cruel she had become since leaving Camelot in her self-imposed exile.

Dante hovered near the door, watching anxiously as the old physician worked to treat Morgana's wounds - of which there were many, she was horrified to see. There was not an inch of the witch's body that was not covered in deep cuts, angry welts or violent purple bruising. Her dislocated fingers - that Mordred had reset back in the camp, were but a fraction of the terrible wounds. An hour later, after Gaius had finished accounting each wound to Merlin, who was making a note on a roll of parchment so that it may be presented to the council during the next meeting, Dante was disgusted to find that the roll of parchment was over three feet long when Merlin tore it off at the bottom.

Amongst the things listed upon it were the dislocated fingers, cracked ribs, severe head trauma, partial blindness in one eye, burns to the soles of both feet, missing toenails...the list went on, each wound more horrific than the last.

Dante openly wept when Gaius probed Morgana's side and found a shallow stab wound that had festered and become infected. The witch cried out in agony as he probed it gently, then lay whimpering on his table as he moved on to some of the other areas where he hoped she did not feel so much pain.

Dante wanted to turn and run - away from the horrors she was seeing before her. But she forced herself not to, forcing herself to stay strong and endure, for Morgana's sake. However, she was not alone in her struggles.

Even the old physician looked like he was fighting back tears, and Merlin refused to lift his eyes from the parchment, so it was impossible to see how he felt about the whole thing. Though Dante could well guess.

Finally Gaius administered Morgana with a much more concentrated dose of her old sleeping draught, explaining that hopefully she would be able to sleep in peace for a time. Then he walked quietly over to Dante. "It is impossible not to feel pity for her," he sighed, dipping his hands into a bowl of water to cleanse them of Morgana's blood, then drying them on a rag. "Especially when you have known her for as long as I have."

"Nobody deserves such a barbaric fate," Dante agreed, accepting the cloth that Gaius produced from a pocket of his robes, so that she could dry her eyes. "If only we'd found her sooner."

"I admit, I am not sure what I can do for her," Gaius sighed as Merlin came to join them, the parchment rolled up and clutched tightly in one fist. "All we can do is show her kindness, and hope that she is wise enough to accept our help."

"She will be willing," Dante assured them. "On the morning she was taken, she was preparing to go to Arthur and offer an alliance between them. She wanted to help him, because she recognized that these Saxons posed a greater threat than Arthur ever could."

"Well perhaps this idea of hers still stands," Gaius nodded. "If she survives the night."

"Is it truly that bad?" Dante asked, her voice cracking, then. "Were we too late?"

"Let us not give up hope just yet," Gaius spoke gently, patting her on the shoulder. "As I said, with great kindness, she may well recover."

"And become Arthur's enemy again," Merlin grumbled.

"She still is Arthur's enemy," Dante told him, glancing over his shoulder to where the witch now slept. "But even enemies can show each other respect. Morgana was willing to put aside her differences and show Arthur respect. Now we must do the same."

"Yes Milady," he nodded. Then, also knowing that he would probably regret this decision later, Merlin sighed and ploughed ahead regardless.

"Well, evil enemy witch or not, she cannot sleep on that rickety old table in her condition. I suppose she will have to take my bed."

The look of gratitude was not lost on Dante then, even as she shook her head. "No, Merlin. You do not have to do that. She can have my quarters."

"And where will you go?" Merlin asked. "You no longer share Gwaine's bed."

Dante glared at him, and it looked for one long moment as if she were about to slap him. But eventually she held herself back and said, instead, "Merlin, have you ever heard of something called tact?"

"Of course."

"Well why don't you use it, once in a while? I'm going to see Arthur. Gaius, will you inform me immediately if there is any change?"

"As you wish, My Lady," he bowed his head to her. Then she turned on her heel and stormed from the room, leaving Merlin looking bewildered.

"What did I say?" he asked, surprised. Gaius just shook his head. Sometimes the boy could be so exasperating in his innocence.


	6. Tracking in Arryn

**Author Note: It's just occured to me that I haven't updated for a while. My bad...enjoy these next 2 chapters to make up for it. They're flashbacks to the beginning of the war...Dante has a prisoner to interrogate, and he in turn has some disturbing news for her.**

**...**

_The dungeons were dark and fittingly gloomy as Dante descended with Gwaine, flaming torches held aloft above their heads._

_ "I wish to see my prisoner," Dante told the jailer, who bowed and led the way to a cell at the far end of the block. Gwaine followed his fiancée uneasily, getting the very discomforting feeling that he would not like this, one bit. After all, this was the cell that he had shared with Elyan and Gaius for one of the worst weeks of his life. If those bad memories were not enough to make him feel uneasy, then Dante's proposed plan certainly was._

_ As she stood outside the cell that held Ulrich the Saxon, Dante paused, took a deep breath, then turned to Gwaine. "Wait here. He may talk if he believes I am alone."_

_ "He may try and kill you with his bare hands, too," Gwaine pointed out. "Have you seen the size of them?"_

_ "He knows I beat him once," Dante shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance to hide her nerves. "If he is wise, he will know not to anger me again."_

_ "Dante, let me come in," Gwaine started, moving to grab her by the shoulder. But she was too quick for him, and pressed her torch into his palm instead._

_ "Wait here," she insisted. "If I need help, you'll hear my scream."_

_ "Dante!"_

_ "Stay!" She snapped. He moved to protest, but she held up her hand and glared at him until he backed down. Then she allowed herself a quick smile. "Good doggie. Sit...roll over...play dead..."_

_ "Pack it in," the knight grumbled, leaning back against the cold stone wall and placing one of the torches in a bracket on the wall. The other, he held in his hand and swung it about a few times, making whooshing noises as the trails of flame streaked backwards and forwards. _

_ "If you swing it fast enough, you can almost write your name with it," she teased as she stepped into the cell and the jailer - who had remained silent through their whole exchange - closed the door behind her._

_ Ulrich, son of Uldred sat in the corner of the cell, looking utterly miserable. With the heavy furs taken from him, he was now only half the size he'd first appeared, and one half of his bearded face was purple with bruising. His wounded shoulder hung limply by his side, though at least someone had had the sense to bandage it so he lost no more blood._

_ As the heavy lock clicked, he glanced up to see Dante standing in the doorway, studying him._

_ "Good morning," she said after a moment. "Do you remember me?"_

_ Ulrich lifted his head feebly, then dropped it again._

_ "Are you in pain?" Dante asked, deciding on the nice, friendly approach first. Her father had always told her that soft words and gentle actions earned more in a single moment than harsh threats and violent beatings earned in a lifetime. It was time to put this theory to the test._

_ "You're name's Ulrich, isn't it? Ulrich, son of Uldred? Are you in pain, Ulrich? Because I've got a friend - he can help you."_

_ "Yes," Ulrich croaked, forcing himself to look up once more._

_ "Sorry?" Dante frowned, not quite hearing._

_ "I am in pain," Ulrich continued. "They bound my wound, and locked me down here, away from the world because they fear me. Do you fear me?"_

_ Dante thought for a moment, then sat herself down cross-legged in the hay, about three feet away from him. All he had to do was lurch forward in one single movement and he could - as Gwaine had so rightly predicted - crush her neck with his bare hands. _

_ "No," she said truthfully. _

_ Because she was not afraid of him. Instead, she found herself pitying him. He must have been of her age, if not younger - the bushy beard that adorned his face the only thing hiding his youth from the world, and despite the thick muscles of his arms - where he had been trained to wield heavy weapons, the fact that his ribs pressed through the thin fabric of his shirt told her that he had seen a hard life, and food was not something generously given to him._

_ "I am dying," Ulrich sighed._

_ "No you're not," Dante retorted, and then she thought for a moment, before realising that perhaps he was right. He did indeed looked half starved, his shoulder looked inflamed and most likely infected, and who knew what other illnesses and ailments he might be suffering within. "We can help. Help me, and I promise I will help you."_

_ "I welcome death," Ulrich replied sadly. "But before I die, I am glad that I have met a woman who was not afraid to fight her own battles, or get her hands dirty."_

_ "Don't talk that way," she said gently, shuffling forward and reaching out a hand, placing it gently on his forearm. "I give you my word, as First Lady of Camelot. If you help me...tell me everything I need to know...then I will help you in return."_

_ "How can you help me? I am a prisoner of King Pendragon."_

_ "No," she smiled softly. "You are MY prisoner. As such, I am willing to let you go...IF you help me."_

_ Ulrich thought about it for a very long time, but said nothing. Deciding she'd get nothing else out of him for now, Dante rose and moved back to the door._

_ "It is late morning now. I'll give you until evenfall when the sun has vanished beyond the horizon, to decide. After that, your fate will be out of my hands." Then she turned to the door. "Jailer!" She called._

_ "Wait!" Ulrich called as she stepped out of the cell. Dante turned in the doorway and waited to hear what he had to say._

_ "If I tell you what you want to know..." Ulrich started. "Will you heal my shoulder? That is all I ask of you."_

_ "I'll give you more than that, Ulrich. How does fresh clothing, more food than you could imagine, a soft bed, a secure job and a place of your own sound to you? Not to mention more gold than you've probably ever laid eyes upon."_

_ Ulrich's eyes truly lit up then. "You would feed and clothe me?"_

_ "Serve me well...tell me what I need, and yes, I will give you all those things." Then she paused and considered for a moment, before smiling. "I'll send Merlin down right away. Call it a gesture of good faith, to show that I mean to keep my word."_

_ "Thank you, First Lady," Ulrich nodded, massaging his throbbing shoulder. _

_ "Dante," she smiled. "My name is Dante."_

_ "Thank you Dante," he nodded again as finally, she took her leave and went to find Gwaine, who was waiting for her a little further down the cell block._

_ "Well?" he asked._

_ "Score one for the First Lady," she grinned._

_ "He's agreed to help?" Gwaine asked, astonished, as he and Dante walked hand in hand back up towards the upper levels - and daylight, once more._

_ "Well, I've given him until sunset to decide if he will help us or not, but let's just say the offer I made him is far too good to refuse," Dante explained. _

_ "And this offer was...?"_

_ "If he will tell us what we need to know, we will treat his wounds for him. A fair enough offer, but I sweetened it even further by adding in his freedom, plus a job and a future."_

_ "You intend to set him free?" Gwaine frowned. "Is that wise?"_

_ "That depends on how much information he gives us willingly, and how much of it is the truth."_

_..._

_At sundown, Dante returned to the cell as promised, but she knew as soon as she walked through the cell door what the Saxon's answer would be, just by the way his head perked up and he looked at her with a spark of hope. Merlin and Gaius had done a good - if reluctant - job of treating his shoulder, and already he looked much better than he had that morning._

_ "First Lady Dante," he greeted. "I would offer you a seat, but your king has failed to provide me with a chair."_

_ "I can stand well enough," she replied, remembering how she'd sat in the straw earlier and had been forced to change her clothing afterward, per Gwaine's adamant request, because he had said she smelt terrible. This time, she would not make that mistake again._

_ "Have you come to a decision?" She asked him now. He nodded._

_ "I will give you your answers...for a price."_

_ "I have already named the price," She shrugged. "You wish to make better terms?"_

_ "I wish only for answers of my own," he said after a moment. "My freedom matters not, but I wish information, for my peace of mind. I have family out there, just as you do, I presume. So all I ask is that you give me answers, and I shall give you answers in return."_

_ "Truthfully?"_

_ "It's truth you want, My Lady? Be careful. So many often crave the truth, only to despise the taste when it is served to them." A little of the former arrogance that he had displayed when she'd first captured him in the woods was beginning to show once more. She could not let him see that he was getting to her. She had offered him a fair deal and listened to his own terms. Now it was up to him whether he chose to play nicely or not._

_ "I am strong enough to hear anything you care to say," she replied firmly. _

_ "As you will, and may I first of all say my thanks once again. Your little magic man really knows his stuff. I can barely feel the pain in my shoulder any more. A good throw, you have on you, if I do say so myself."_

_ "Be grateful I was not armed with my bow."_

_ "Consider me incredibly grateful for the way you have treated me so far, My Lady. So...ask your first question."_

Where to begin? _Dante thought, before finally deciding there really was no time to waste with pointless questions. She got straight to the point._

_ "You were sent to kidnap the Queen. Why did you take Morgana, instead?"_

_ "Did we not go over this in the woods?"_

_ "You were delirious from battle. I would hear it from your own mouth now that you are in your right mind."_

_ "Am I?" he asked, eyebrows rising. Then he shrugged. "Our scouts reported that the Citadel was too heavily guarded for our small party, so we were doubling back for reinforcements when we came upon the witch's hovel. Overhearing your argument with the magic man, we decided that she must be someone of great importance, if she had an army she was willing to give to the Dragon King. When I heard her name, I remembered hearing a story once about the Lady Morgana, and how rumours suggested she was Pendragon's sister. It was my idea to take her, instead of the Queen."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "If she had lived in the Citadel, even for a short while, she would know many of its secrets. But that is two questions you have asked of me now. It is only fair that I ask two in turn."_

_ Dante curled her fist in frustration, but a deal was a deal, so in the end she nodded. "Ask."_

_ "How many of the men from my party still live?"_

_ "Including you? Four. So far as I know."_

_ "Can you describe them to me? I want to know if my brother was amongst them."_

_ Dante thought for a moment, trying to remember the men she'd seen fleeing. "Well, there was your leader - the one who didn't join the fight. Then there was the one with the huge double bladed war axe, that big ugly guy with the great sword, a smaller man with shaggy black hair - he was the first one Merlin knocked off his feet, I believe...and you."_

_ Ulrich nodded then. "That is good. My brother still lives. Though for how much longer, during this war, will be anyone's guess. Perhaps I am the lucky one. Down here, I am away from the fighting."_

_ "Perhaps," Dante agreed. Then she thought of her next question. "You say it was your idea to take Morgana, so you must know where she will be taken?"_

_ "I can tell you that she would have been taken to our leader, Cor, so that he could value her worth as a hostage. After that, however, I'm afraid I cannot say. I am just a soldier, not a babysitter. Any captives we take on the battlefield are taken from our hands after we present them to Cor."_

_ "So you do not know where she is then?" Dante felt her heart sink. She knew that he was telling the truth - she could see no deception in his eyes, and what he'd told her was very much similar to the way of things with Arthur. Any captives taken on the field were presented to him, or the respective king of whoever had taken the prisoner. Then it was up to the respective King or Lord to decide the fate of the prisoner. If Dante had been a knight, Arthur would have sent her back out to battle, and she'd probably never have seen Ulrich again, or known of his fate. _

_ "I am sorry, My Lady...I do not. Now may I ask two more?"_

_ "As you will," she nodded, starting to pace back and forth, deeply agitated by the fact Morgana was out there somewhere, yet nobody knew where._

_ "You could have killed me, yet you chose to spare me. Why?"_

_ "I needed information," Dante shrugged._

_ "You could have left me to rot down here, or tortured me for answers, yet so far you have shown me kindness and offered me my freedom. Why?"_

_ "It is the way I have been brought up," she said, rounding on him. "If you don't like it, I can arrange for some torturer to come down here and - "_

_ "No, no," Ulrich cut in quickly. "I am not complaining. I am finding myself very grateful, instead. Grateful to both you and to your Lord Father, whomever he may be."_

_ "Lord Ector Quincailan of Arryn," Dante found herself telling him, although she really didn't know why. As if her father's name would mean anything to him. But a sudden flash in his eye caught her attention, and she realised that the name DID mean something. "What is it?" She asked suddenly. "You know that name?"_

_ "I know the name of the town, yes," he nodded. "We passed through it on our way here. Some of my brothers had already beaten us to it, so there was little left."_

_ "Arryn was sacked?!" Dante cried suddenly, alarmed. All thoughts of Morgana and her whereabouts fled Dante's mind then, and she had thoughts and fears only for her father, and her home. She ran for the cell door, but Ulrich called her back._

_ "My Lady, wait! Not all is as it seems."_

_ "What do you mean?" She frowned, one hand on the door. The jailer paused outside, unsure if she wanted out just yet, or not._

_ "When I passed through, I thought it curious that there were no bodies. You say we are barbarians, and I admit it's true, we do savage and pillage and plunder. But this place - Arryn - when we passed through, the place had been razed to the ground, yet there was no sign of any bodies. Not even livestock. It looked like the place had been deserted BEFORE it had been sacked. Curious, no?"_

_ "Curious," Dante agreed, though she was more alarmed than curious. But even she had to admit that this was most strange. This was something she needed to see for herself, before she could lay aside the worries that her father and her people were safe._

_ Eventually signalling for the jailer to let her out, she started back up towards the main castle where Gwaine was waiting for her. "I'm going home, to Arryn," she said as she strode past, the skirts of her dress flowing out behind her as she walked briskly towards the stable block._

_ "What? Why?" Gwaine asked, falling into step beside her._

_ "Ulrich says it's been sacked, but there was no sign of anyone. I need to know my father is safe." _

_ "And how will you convince Arthur to let you go? You claimed to him that you hate your father."_

_ "But that's not true."_

_ "I know it's not, but Arthur doesn't. And what do you think he will do if he finds out you've been lying to him?"_

Have my head on a spike by sundown? _Dante wanted to retort, but she held her tongue - for the first time ever - and sighed._

_ "Then I will use this as an opportunity to say that I have made amends with my father and no longer despise him."_

_ "If your father is not already dead."_

_ "Not helping, Gwaine!"_

_..._

_It didn't really take a lot to convince Arthur to let her go back to Arryn, even though he did call it - amongst other things - a foolish quest. But in the end he had more important things to do now that war had broken out, than try to stop the stubborn, impetuous young Lady. Just as he'd done when she'd tried to disguise herself in his army, he knew it was wiser to just go along with her than to try and stop her. If he stopped her, she would no doubt go behind his back anyway, so why waste his breath?_

_ He did, however, insist that Gwaine and Percival go with her, for her protection in case of another ambush. Dante didn't mind this one bit and welcomed both knights along gladly._

_ An hour later, the trio set out towards Camelot's borders, dressed in simple leather and plain garbs - no indication as to who they fought for or where their allegiances lie. If they were caught, they could claim to be simple travellers - hardly worth the bother of being captured (compared to two knights and a Lady of the Court, who could be held for considerable ransoms)._

_ By mid afternoon, they had seen neither hide nor hair of any Saxons, which was a relatively good sign. They had also crossed Essetir's borders unchallenged and were almost at Arryn._

_ Smoke continued to drift lightly into the air, despite it being at least two days since the place was razed, and the closer they got, the stronger the stench of burning, until finally they rounded a corner and saw the devastation for themselves._

_ Arryn was not exactly small. Farms of all shapes and sizes could be found around the outskirts, about a mile from the very centre of the town and in the centre itself, there were about a hundred stone houses, along with various outbuildings, stables, pastures, orchards and fields of wheat, corn, barley and vegetables. In the very centre was an even larger manor house - Dante's home - although calling it a large house was an understatement. It actually looked like a small castle, complete with towers on two of its four corners, battlements around the edge of the roof and a shallow moat around it with a small drawbridge. _

_ Elsewhere in the town that surrounded the castle, trees dotted here and there adding a splash of colour to the place - or at least they would, had they not been turned to charcoal skeletons. Each and every building had been gutted by fire, the fields were charred and black and the ground had been churned up by hundreds of hooves and booted feet._

_ The place was unrecognizable, and Dante let out a gasp of horror as she saw what had become of her home. Gwaine was equally aghast and even Percival (who had never known this place in its former glory) looked appalled by what he was seeing before him._

_ Sliding from the saddle, Dante stepped through the churned earth towards her home to see that it had not escaped the fire either. Dropping to her knees in the bog before her home, she placed her head in her hands and wept. _

_ "I'm sorry," Percival said quietly as he crouched beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder._

_ "Ulrich was right about one thing," Gwaine said at last as he rummaged through the burnt debris of a nearby house. When both Dante and Percival looked his way, he decided to explain. "There are no bodies. This place was empty before the Saxons arrived."_

_ "So where is everyone?" Dante wondered, her cheeks wet with tears and glistening in the afternoon light._

_ Gwaine shrugged then, unable to come up with an answer...at first, anyway. As he and Percival began to scavenge through the rest of the debris and Dante finally dragged herself back to her feet, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, Gwaine suddenly remembered who was in charge of Arryn._

_ "Your father!" He cried suddenly, rushing from the house he'd been searching and almost crashing into Dante, who yelped in surprise. As he grabbed her shoulders and steadied her back on her feet, he continued hurriedly before she could interrupt. "Your father's a smart man! If he knew the Saxons were coming and evacuated the place, he would also have known that sooner or later someone - you being the most likely person here - would come looking for him. He'd have left a sign, wouldn't he? Like when he often played those games with us as children before...well, before Cailan..."_

_ He didn't finish, but Dante knew what he was trying to say._

_ "Before Cailan died?" She finished for him. He nodded sheepishly, but she couldn't feel sad right now, because he was right. As children, she, her brother Cailan, Gwaine and his sister Aryadne had often played hide and seek around the estate. Sometimes Ector would join in too, and the times that he did had helped to form some of the best memories that Dante had of her childhood. _

_ To teach his children the art of hunting and tracking, Ector also turned it into a game, and would often go off and hide somewhere, leaving them clues along the way so that they could try to work out where he was hidden - be it objects strategically placed, cryptic words and codes or even just something as simple and obvious as a footprint in soft mud._

_ Dante wracked her brains now, trying to remember what the first clue had always been. Ector always kept the first clue the same, to give them a head start. Then the clues after that varied, depending on his hiding place._

_ "What the hell did he always start with?" She groaned, squinting her eyes tight shut - as if that would help her to remember. Visions appeared in her mind of seemingly random objects - a cup, a tree branch, a straw doll, an arrow..._

_ "Arrow!" She cried, startling Percival who'd been crouching down nearby. He leapt to his feet and spun, reaching for his sword and expecting them to be under attack. Dante ignored him and started casting about at her feet, kicking the mud with the toe of her boot. "Look for an arrow!" She told the two knights, who had been watching her as though she were mad, Percival still looking half alarmed by her outburst._

_ "What is she talking about?" he muttered as Dante hurried off to check near the manor house. Gwaine grinned at him._

_ "It's a Quincailan thing. Just, look for an arrow, most probably on the floor somewhere."_

_ "Right," Percival nodded, clearly not understanding the significance, but choosing, for the moment at least, to just ignore it and do as he was told. _

_..._

_ An hour later, it was Gwaine who found the first clue. _

_ "Over here!" he called to them as he crouched in the mud on the banks of the small moat. Then he pointed down near the water's edge. Dante and Percival had to lean right over (almost losing their balance in the process) to see the arrow embedded firmly into the soft mud of the bank. There was no way it could have fallen there, as it had been pressed deeply into the mud, and nobody would be able to get down there to kick it or trample it with a foot. That MUST be the clue._

_ "There's something written on it," Percival pointed as Gwaine dropped onto his belly and leaned over the edge, reaching as far as he could - his fingertips brushing the feathers of the arrow, but unable to get a grip. And then the mud gave way and he found himself sliding. The cry for help had barely built in his throat before the ice cold water closed over him._

_ Surfacing in a rush, water flying everywhere, he gasped several times, then looked to his hand to see the arrow clasped firmly in his fingers. He held it aloft proudly. "Got it!"_

_ Percival was seriously fighting back laughter as he held out a hand to help Gwaine scramble back out again, but Dante wasn't so good at hiding her emotions. Well, she actually wasn't attempting to hide them at all. Tears of amusement streamed down her cheeks and she clutched her sides, barely able to draw breath through her fits of laughter._

_ "Laugh it up, Shorty," Gwaine retorted as he clawed his way back up the slippery slope with help from Percival. Then he stood over Dante and shook his head like a dog, spraying her with water._

_ "Gwaine!" She shrieked, trying to scrambled backwards, away from him. _

_ "Now we're even," he declared as he pushed the soaking strands of hair away from his eyes and turned back to Percival. "That had better be the damned clue, now."_

_ "Well, unless the people of Arryn have a habit of carving 'North' into every arrow?" Percival shrugged, handing it to Dante to examine._

_ "North?" She repeated, confused. But north's that way. The arrow was pointing east."_

_ "There's nothing east but forests and hills," Gwaine frowned. "Why would he take your people to hide there?"_

_ "Unless that's where he's hidden the next clue?" Percival suggested as Dante wandered off a little way, looking east. She was muttering to herself, and as the two knights moved closer, they could hear her reeling off what sounded like a list of names._

_ "You missed the Great North Rock," Gwaine added when she paused. Dante frowned at him for a moment as if he were stupid, then her eyes widened. _

_ "That's it! The arrow points to the Great NORTH Rock! Oh I could kiss you right now, Gwaine!"_

_ "What's stopping you?" He asked in his silky smooth voice, even as he puckered his lips slightly, ready for the kiss. _

_ "You smell like a pond," she called over her shoulder as she leapt lightly back into Vixen's saddle. Percival roared with laughter, unable to hide it any longer as Dante glanced back at Gwaine and grinned._

_ "The Vixen and the Duck. Now there's an unlikely pairing."_

_ "I am not a duck!" Gwaine protested loudly as he finally mounted Gringolet and they all started off towards the east, the carved arrow tucked into Gwaine's saddle bag for safe keeping._


	7. The Dagger

_The Great North Rock was not anything like the kind of rock that Percival had been expecting. He had imagined something like a large boulder, or some carved statue, or perhaps even a small rocky hill. As they emerged from the shadows of the forest and stopped before the rock, he gazed up in awe, speechless._

_ The Rock towered above them, well over a hundred feet high, its top vanishing into the rain clouds that were rapidly descending and threatening to empty their water contents upon the three. It was like a fragment of one of the distant mountains had simply split off and somehow worked its way across the lands, and where it had split, jagged steps had been carved - uneven and dangerous._

_ "What's the betting the next clue is up there?" Dante sighed as she motioned to a ledge about half way up the huge rock face._

_ "Would your father have had time to climb all the way up there?" Gwaine wondered as he stood back and gazed up, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. "It's a long way..."_

_ "He could have sent someone else up there whilst he evacuated Arryn?" Dante suggested, also shielding her eyes. "Someone should go up and have a look."_

_ "Off you go then."_

_ "Bugger off! I might chip a nail!"_

_ "Oh, the poor little Lady might chip a nail? Boo for her."_

_ Percival, meanwhile, had crouched down near the base of the rock, pushing aside the boughs of a holly bush to reveal a rounded mound of soft earth. "Ahem!" He cleared his throat loudly, to get the attention of the bickering couple. When they finally stopped insulting each other (jokingly) and looked over, Dante frowned._

_ "A grave?"_

_ "Perhaps," he nodded. "But who's?"_

_ "Perhaps we should leave it be," Gwaine said cautiously. "Don't want to disturb anything nasty."_

_ "I don't think it is a grave," Percival said, ignoring Gwaine as he started to dig. As he pulled the dirt away from the mound in great fistfuls, he noticed that there were no stones, no roots. "Whatever's here has been put here recently. And it's too small to be a grave."_

_ "Could be a child's grave," Gwaine replied, backing away, one hand hovering over the dagger at his belt. Had Percival forgotten what had happened to Elyan when he'd disturbed that druid shrine? _

_ Dante ignored Gwaine as well and knelt beside Percival, helping him to scrape away the dirt. However, the more they dug, the less certain the pair of them became as Gwaine's fears began to creep into their minds, as well. And then, about two feet down, their fingers touched cloth. For a moment both of them paused, almost afraid to continue, as both were now expecting to find a corpse. Both feared finding the body of a dead child, and had to force themselves to continue digging, just to be sure. _

_ After several tense moments of digging, Percival shouted and drew his hand back sharply, Dante screamed and leapt backwards away from the hole, and Gwaine drew his sword in one fluid motion - the thought of digging up a grave clearly shredding their nerves to threads._

_ When Dante and Gwaine saw Percival sucking his finger, looking both pained and sheepish however, they realised their mistakes and laughed nervously to cover up their apparent foolishness._

_ "What happened?" Dante asked when she'd recovered enough to speak once more._

_ "There's something sharp down there," Percival said, holding it out for her to see the neat, clean slice across the pad of his index finger. _

_ Very carefully, Dante crawled back to the hole and dug carefully around a slender bundle, before reaching down and pulling it out. It was about a foot long, wrapped in very familiar purple silk and tied with a golden cord. One end of the silk had come unwrapped and a glint of black peeked through. She sat back, cross legged away from the hole and grinned from ear to ear, all thoughts about a haunted grave now well and truly gone. She knew exactly what this bundle was._

_ "We've found it," she declared triumphantly, earning curious gazes from her two companions. Very carefully, she unwrapped the cord, slid the purple silk away and held the knife reverently in one hand, turning it over and over so the dragon bone glittered in the sunlight._

_ The carved dragon bone hilt felt so natural in her hand, the weight familiar, the texture of the dragon bone both smooth and cold. _

_ It was the dagger her mother had given her father as a wedding present, and he in turn had given it to Dante when she was old enough. She never thought she'd see the blade again, after accidentally leaving it behind when she'd run away from home, but now that she once again held it in her hands, she felt like she wanted to cry with relief and with joy. _

_ Percival glared at the knife, now understanding why his finger refused to stop bleeding - the cut was so neat and precise...and deep. In the end, he was forced to cut off a strip of his sleeve and wind it round his finger, before sliding his glove back on to hold it in place._

_ Gwaine, now satisfied that there was no corpse and no haunted grave site, came forwards to examine the purple silk as Dante admired her knife and Percival fussed over his finger. Taking a scrap of folded parchment from the folds of the silk, Gwaine opened it out and read it aloud._

_** "My dearest Dante. I have no doubt that it will be you who finds this - or perhaps it is not you. Perhaps it is Gwaine. If this is the case, then hello to you, Gwaine,"** Gwaine grinned then, and Dante looked up, giving him her full and undivided attention as she listened carefully to the letter he was reading._

_** "In any case, whoever has indeed found this, know that the people of Arryn - my people - are safe. We have taken refuge in my winter home, and are well supplied to last us a whole year up here, if necessary, before we even attempt to venture back to restock. In any case, you will know where I am referring to, without me even needing to say it, but I beg of you, whoever may be reading this, please do NOT try to follow us. We did well to hide our tracks and have so far gone undiscovered. I do not wish for someone else to come here and (however unintentionally) lead the Saxons up here, also. Just known that we are all safe and well, and shall return home as soon as the fighting is over. Dante, if it is indeed you reading this, please heed my warning for once in your life, my girl! Do as your old father says and do not follow us."** Gwaine gave Dante a pointed look then and she raised her hands in front of her in defence. Gwaine decided to repeat that last line anyway, just to make sure her father's point was across._

**_ "Do as your old father says and DO NOT FOLLOW us. Keep yourself SAFE, do not do anything foolish, and know that you have my eternal love, as always. I think of you each and every day, and I know that whatever you are doing, you are making your mother and I very proud. My heart will be with you always, Little Vixen. Your loving father, Lord Ector Quincailan of Arryn."_**

_ There was silence then as Dante closed her eyes, hearing those words again inside her mind and imagining them spoken in her father's voice. A soft smile played on her lips and she turned the dagger gently in her hands, feeling the smoothness of the bone hilt beneath her fingers. She missed her father terribly, but he was right. She could not follow him, because who knew who would be following HER? Could she bear the thought of being responsible for the slaughter of a whole town, through her careless actions? _

_ "So where do we go now?" Percival asked, breaking the silence finally._

_ "We go home," Dante said, standing and wrapping the dagger carefully in the silk once more. Then she wound the cord round it and slid it through her belt, where it rested gently against her hip. "We know my father is safe, so there is nothing more for us to do here. We should head back to Camelot. Besides, I have a prisoner to finish interrogating."_


	8. The Truth Can Hurt

**Author Note: Not long now until Merlin! Woop woop...in the meantime, just to keep you going, I've written a few more chapters, set in the present again. And for those of you who are wondering what happens to the Saxon called Ulrich...well, his fate is briefly described in this chapter, and explained fully in a later chapter.**

**So enjoy, read and review as always :)**

**...**

The council was in full session by the time Dante entered the hall, Gaius close on her heels - both having come straight from his chambers where they'd been with Morgana.

The council had grown in size dramatically over the past three years - and now included the various Kings and Queens from all over Albion, as well as the usual Camelot councillors. Because of the sheer number now in attendance, they sat themselves around the Round Table in the throne room, where Arthur's knights usually sat instead.

Dante, as always, was left with Gwaine's seat, as she had a habit of being the last to turn up to each meeting (usually through no fault of her own) and the others thought the bitter irony would be a funny joke. Dante never saw the funny side, however, and saw it as an insult instead.

Usually she'd kick up a fuss for a few minutes until Arthur would tell her to be quiet, much to the amusement of everyone else. Needless to say, Dante was never in a very good mood during council sessions.

Today, however, was different. She came in, saw that she'd been left Gwaine's chair, as usual, but didn't kick up her usual fuss. Instead she made her usual apologies for being late, then sat down quietly, without protest and tossed a scroll of parchment in Arthur's direction, even as she glanced towards Gaius.

"What's this?" Arthur frowned, unrolling the parchment and beginning to read.

"A list of the wounds Morgana has suffered."

Arthur's face paled considerably as he read further and further down the list, until eventually he placed it down, refusing to read any more.

"You're sure?" He asked Gaius, but before the old physician could reply, Dante beat him to it.

"No, Arthur. I just asked Gaius to make half of it up, so you would feel bad."

Everyone gasped at the way she had spoken to her king, and Dante glared at each of them across the table. "Oh grow up, everyone!" She snapped - Merlin's earlier comment having put her in a foul mood. Being left Gwaine's chair had only served to rub salt into the wound, and make her temper that much worse. "We've got more important issues to deal with right now than bloody 'protocols'!"

"And what could be so important that you refuse to show your king the proper respect?" Queen Annis asked sharply, matching Dante's glare with an equally fierce one that caused some of the lesser nobles about the table to cringe and shrink in their seats.

"How about the fact that Morgana has been brutally tortured and is barely hanging on to her life because none of you dared to act sooner?" Dante challenged, standing then so that she could address the whole table.

"How about the fact that all we ever seem to bloody do is sit here and DISCUSS stuff, but never actually DO it? How about the fact that the Saxons are not gone yet? They could still return, yet you're all acting like the war is already over! How about the thousands of innocent families that have been left homeless after their towns and villages were sacked and pillaged? What are we going to do about them? Leave them to starve and freeze, whilst we sit here in luxury and DISCUSS their fates? Damn it councillors, wake up! You must wake up! Albion needs us, more than ever! We need to ACT! Show the people we still care about them! Or we'll have riots and civil wars on our hands, on top of everything else!" Clearly she'd been holding back all her frustration for far too long, and this was the final straw. She'd been unable to remain silent anymore and the flood gates had opened, spilling forth a tidal wave of frustrated anger and a list of all the injustices in the world.

"And what about all those Saxons, like my servant?" She asked after a brief pause to let her angry rant sink in. "The ones who escaped here, looking for a better life? Are we going to prove ourselves more barbaric than Cor and his men, by driving the innocents away and refusing to help them? Because I've seen no-one even lift a finger to help them so far!"

"They invaded our lands!" Bayard said then, also standing so that he could shout across the table at her. "They do not deserve our help! You show great weakness by trusting one of them! The man was your prisoner, yet you not only set him free, you clothed him, fed him, paid him in gold and treated him like one of our own!"

"What I choose to do with Ulrich is none of your concern," Dante snapped. "He has been a good, loyal servant to me. He has given me no reason to doubt or mistrust him and I am simply repaying him for all the information he so willingly parted with. Information that helped to turn the tide of this war in our favour, lest you had already forgotten?!"

"He is still a Saxon!"

"And is it so hard to believe that he might not have wanted to invade us? Is it so hard to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he was looking to escape here and start a new life, away from all the fighting? Because it sounds to me as if you are saying that if the situation was reversed - if this land was torn by civil war like their lands are, and our innocents - our women and children - fled over there looking for safety and a fresh start, they would not deserve to be helped either?"

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"But it's what you're implying! You're willing to throw away good trade opportunities because a group of rebels tarnished the reputations of an entire nation of people?!"

"Of course not!"

"Then why do they not deserve our help?" She turned her glare up several notches then, and Bayard looked like he wanted to cower away and hide under the table, but somehow found the courage to remain standing. However, he did not return her glare nearly half as fiercely.

"Enough!" Arthur ordered, standing as well and banging a fist on the solid oak table to get their attention. "Sit down, both of you! Dante, I will not have you speaking out of turn like that! Hold your tongue or I will have you removed from this meeting."

Dante's jaw clenched tight as she fought back the urge to say something she'd later regret. The fire in her eyes continued to rage, even as she sat back down reluctantly, her hands clenched into fists.

"Perhaps we should put all those suggestions to a vote?" Mithian asked at last, trying to be diplomatic and at the same time dispel some of the tension.

"To what point and purpose? Dante has the right of it. All those things need to be dealt with - and soon! Or perhaps you all want to start a civil war?" Lot challenged this time, taking up Dante's argument now that she had been silenced. She glanced at him in surprise.

"What we need to do," Odin added thoughtfully, "Is elect our High King, then present all the problems to him, for his judgement, and his judgement alone."

"Who says we need a High King?" Annis started then. "Why not a High Queen?"

"People respect their kings," King Mark of Cornwall chipped in.

"Apparently not," King Olaf glared openly at Dante, whilst his daughter Vivian pulled a face at the First Lady of Camelot. It was no secret that Vivian and Dante hated each other, and would often do anything they could just to get on the other's nerves. The fact that Olaf was openly calling Dante disrespectful seemed to delight his daughter to no end.

Dante was ready with a biting retort when Gwen cut across her. "Good people!" She cried out, forcing Dante to hold back the retort that Gwen was sure would have been most colourful, had she been allowed to continue. "Good people, please! We are on the same side! We've fought long and hard for the same thing - peace! Why, when we are on the brink of achieving that, are we all turning on each other again?!"

"My wife speaks truly," Arthur agreed. "We should not be fighting amongst ourselves! We should be working out how to build the future!"

"Which is what I was trying to tell you to do, all along!" Dante was unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"And what would a spoiled brat like you know of anything?" King Alined spat.

"Spoiled brat?" Dante echoed, incredulous. "Look who's talking, you pompous, arrogant, self-centred, low down, stuck up, half witted, scruffy looking...clot pole!"

For a moment there was silence, and then Arthur couldn't help it and burst out laughing. Beside him, Gwen covered her mouth to stop her own giggles escaping, and Gaius - who had (like many of the other councillors) remained silent until then, looked down, grinning madly.

And then slowly, one by one, the others around the table began to laugh as well - some more loudly than others at first. Five minutes later, however, there was not one person around the table (save Dante), who was not crying tears of laughter. Even Alined, Olaf and Vivian were clutching their sides, they were laughing too much.

Dante, meanwhile, had flushed a deep crimson colour, but was grinning regardless. Of all the insults she could have thrown at him, clot pole had not been one of the ones she'd been thinking of. Perhaps she'd been spending far too long around Merlin?

"Perhaps we should...adjourn for the day?" Bayard suggested eventually, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic.

"A good idea," Arthur agreed, still chuckling as he looked at Dante. "I do not think my sides can take any more laughter."

"Perhaps you should name her court jester?" Odin suggested as everyone rose from their seats to take their leave. "I know that I have not laughed so much in a long time."

"Clot pole? I shall have to remember that," Mark said as he passed Dante, patting her lightly on the shoulder.

When everyone, save Arthur, Gaius, Dante and Gwen had left the room, however, the King turned to the others.

"All joking aside, is my sister's condition really as bad as it seems, Gaius?" he asked, deadly serious once more.

"Why don't you go and see her, sire? It can do no harm. I have given her a heavy sleepy draught so she won't be awake," the physician suggested.

"I don't know," Arthur started, uncertainly.

"Arthur," Dante spoke gently. "When I see my father again, I intend to make my peace with him, no matter what he may have done to me in the past. The years I have spent apart from him have made me realise just how much I miss my family. And he is all the family I have left now."

"And you are saying I should do the same for Morgana?"

"I am not asking you to forgive her...but make your peace, at least. Before it's too late and you spend the rest of your life regretting not doing it when you had the chance."

"She's right, Arthur," Gwen nodded then, taking his hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Morgana was once my friend, too. If she were to die and I'd left things on bad terms with her, I'd never forgive myself."

"You want to make your peace with her, too?" Arthur asked, surprised. Gwen nodded.

"Yes. But I'll let you make yours first."

The King took a deep breath, then sighed and nodded. "Alright. But I'm doing this for the both of you. Not for her."

...

_Morgana was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming because __she could see herself, as if she was another person, from just over her right shoulder. It was odd, looking at the back of your own head, seeing everything from someone else's perspective.__ A small part of her subconscious was aware of the fact that her hair was getting a bit straggly and could probably do with a cut at some point, but mostly she noticed that she was outdoors, floating a few metres off the ground whilst she watched herself walking through a very familiar stretch of forest._

_ Morgause was waiting for her in her usual spot by the old oak tree, and the two sisters embraced warmly. _

_ "It has been too long, sister," Morgause spoke as she held the dream Morgana in her arms._

_ "I've missed you," Morgana heard her dream-self reply. "The world seems so much smaller without you in it."_

_ "The world is still the same," Morgause replied as she parted herself gently from Morgana's fierce - almost desperate embrace - and held her sister at arm's length, seeming to study her for a moment. "There's just...less in it." _

_ "I'm lost, Morgause," Morgana admitted sadly, as she looked down at her feet. "I don't know what to do, anymore."_

_ "You are young, sister. Time is still on your side," Morgause replied gently, seeming to summon a magical crystal from nowhere. Although Morgana had to remind herself that this was a dream, so it should not come as much of a surprise to her that things were happening that were 'unusual'._

_ Muttering a spell as she waved a hand over the crystal, Morgause then motioned for Morgana to step forward. In the crystal she could see Dante sitting in a darkened room on a leather sofa in front of a fire, obviously deep in thought about something or other. Her forehead was etched with a deep frown, her eyes were focussed on the flames in the hearth and her hands were clasped across her knees. _

_ WHAT she was pondering, it was not clear. But she was definitely deep in thought about something or other. Hearing an apparent noise in the distance, she turned and looked straight at Morgana, though Morgana knew that whatever she was truly looking at had simply come from that direction. Still, the intense look in Dante's eyes unnerved her slightly, because it looked so familiar._

_ It looked like the expression Morgause had sometimes worn when deep in thought, also. If ever she'd been in doubt that Dante was a relation of herself and Morgause, well...that one look had been enough to clear away those doubts in an instant._

_ And then the image in the crystal changed and shifted to show Mordred down in the training grounds, duelling two men at once and making it look effortless and easy. Sir Leon was standing off to one side, barking orders and shouting compliments every now and then, whilst the two men - who Morgana recognized now as the knights Elyan and Tristan, both charged at Mordred at once, hoping that their combined strength would be enough to finally bring the young druid down. But with a grin, he would suddenly cast a spell to send one of them flying, or to trip one of them up. He was laughing, clearly enjoying himself._

_ "They both love you, in their own unique ways," Morgause commented, as finally the image faded and the crystal became just a normal crystal in her hand once more. "But only one will lead you to greatness. The other will destroy everything you've ever worked to achieve. You must get rid of him - or her - before it is too late."_

_ "But how will I know which one to let go?"Morgana asked her sister, looking confused. Morgause simply smiled and shrugged lightly - an elegant gesture that caused the ripples of her crimson velvet dress to shimmer in the ethereal light of the dream world they stood in._

_ "That, sister, is something you must decide for yourself. You must learn to see past the love and the devotion that they both show, and see what is truly in their hearts. Only then will you know which one to trust, and which one will betray you. Go now, and good luck. I love you, sister."_

_ And the dream Morgause reached out a hand and pushed Morgana backwards lightly. She felt like she was falling - threw her arms out to try and desperately keep her balance, but fell anyway..._

And woke up with a start in a dark bedroom, sweat-damp sheets clinging to her clammy skin.

She lay there for several moments, her mind desperately racing to make sense of everything that had just happened, even as she took several deep breaths to calm herself.

Then, glancing to her right, she saw the open door of the bed chambers, and through the door, sitting in front of the fire, was Dante - looking exactly as she had done in Morgana's dream, the same pensive expression on her face as she sat in exactly the same position and stared at the flames.

Morgana dragged herself backwards slightly so that she was propped up on her elbows a little. Then she cleared her throat, ignoring the pain that shot through her entire body with each movement. Dante appeared not to have heard her, however, so Morgana called out her acolyte's name.

Her voice was hoarse, unused for so long, and it took her a few attempts to even make any sounds, first of all, let alone form any words. Eventually she managed a croaky sentence.

"Something...wrong?"

Dante turned to look in her direction with that exact same look she'd had in the dream, and Morgana felt a bolt of pain in her heart as she remembered her dead sister. Then Dante's expression changed into a relieved smile, instead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Morgana admitted. She no longer felt like she was bordering on the brink of death, now, which was a major improvement from how she'd been feeling back in that horrendous hell hole the Saxons had called a prison.

"You already look much improved," Dante nodded as she rose from the sofa and moved slowly into the bedroom to sit on the wooden chair beside Morgana's bed. "You have some colour to your cheeks again."

"I don't suppose Merlin and Gaius were that keen on treating me," Morgana smiled ruefully as she sunk back down under the covers once more. Dante smiled and reached over to adjust the pillows beneath her head until she was more comfortable.

"I will not lie, Milady - they were not keen, no. Neither were the druids. I had to persuade Iseldir that he owed it to my mother's memory to help."

"Druids?" Morgana croaked. "You mean, Arthur allowed them into the Citadel? I...I thought...he allowed them into the kingdom...but not...?"

"He has allowed magic to return to the whole kingdom," Dante nodded. "Even the Citadel. It has proved most useful, after all, and I believe he's now seen the error of his father's ways. You had a great deal to do with that, in fact."

"Me?" Morgana croaked, surprised. Dante reached to the side table, poured a cup of water, then helped Morgana to drink it.

"He came to see you whilst you slept," she informed the witch as she set the empty cup back on the side table again. "He talked to you for hours - I think it just felt good for him to talk, get it all off his chest, whilst there was no danger of you trying to kill him." She smiled wryly, and even Morgana had to admit that this did sound like something she would most likely have done. So she didn't protest. She just listened, as Dante continued.

"Mostly he talked about the good times you both used to have, as children. He spoke of his father as well, and how he hadn't always agreed with him, but had never had the courage to stand up to Uther as you so often did. He admired you for that. Just as he admired the way you helped those who needed it - like Mordred, when he was just a boy." Dante paused, looking at Morgana then, as if wondering whether or not to continue, almost as if she were afraid. Morgana knew then, that what came next, she probably wouldn't like hearing it, but she still nodded slightly and urged her cousin to carry on.

"After a while, he began to wonder what had turned you so against him and your father. He asked me, but I pleaded ignorance. After all, he still does not know I am your loyal servant, though I think by now he has probably guessed that there is something between us. Nobody else went out of their way to help you, after all. But when I did not give him an answer, he began to speculate his own theories. He believes that you were scared, after discovering your powers, and in your fear, you turned away from Uther who openly hated magic, and turned to someone who could help you to understand instead. Someone who embraced you for who you are and did not fear you. He thinks that you found comfort in your sister's guidance because she could teach you how to control your powers. But she was so bitter and twisted by Uther's hatred towards her and her kind, that she twisted you as well. He does not believe you are a bad person, Morgana. He simply believes you fell into the wrong crowd."

Morgana could feel the tears prickling at her eyes as she lay there in the dark, listening to Dante's gentle voice. It was clear that Dante was picking and choosing her words very carefully and not revealing the whole truth, but for once, Morgana was glad. She wasn't sure she could bear the whole truth, right now.

Because it angered her that Arthur blamed Morgause for what she had become, when it had been he and his father who had done that, instead - with more than a little help from the likes of Merlin and Gwen. Morgause had done nothing but love her unconditionally, and guide her, as any sister would have done for her younger sibling, whilst Uther had cast her aside, even going so far as to deny that she was even his daughter, whilst Arthur refused to see the benefits of magic - so blinded by his father's intolerance to it that he would not open his own eyes and see for himself.

And as for Merlin and Gwen?

Morgana was the eldest child of Uther. By rights (in her mind at least), she should have been first in line for the throne - not some serving maid usurper who had been born in the lower town and spent most of her life scrubbing floors and waiting on other people.

Gwen had stolen what was rightfully Morgana's. But hadn't Morgana apologised to her ex-friend before she'd intended to kill her? It was not exactly Gwen's fault, after all. She'd simply chosen the wrong man to fall in love with. But even so, she could have helped Morgana to gain the throne. She would have been treated fairly - During the early days, after discovering that she was the king's daughter, Morgana had even considered letting Gwen free of her duties as a maid and allowing her to become a lady of the court - maybe even naming her as First Lady. She could have had her pick of any lord or knight in the land - Morgana was even willing to lift Lancelot's banishment, if that had been what Gwen had wanted...but no. The foolish maid had chosen Arthur instead. Even after Morgana had thrown Lancelot back into the mix and Gwen had been sorely tempted, she had still somehow worked her way back to Arthur and earned his forgiveness. Now she sat in Morgana's throne, looking down upon everyone else as though she were better than them all.

And as for Merlin? Well...he'd poisoned her, and continually thwarted her plans again and again. She may have felt some glimmer of affection towards him a long time ago - maybe even a fleeting fancy - but now he was nothing to her. Nothing but a traitor and a constant thorn in her side.

"So...how have I helped to restore magic to the lands?" She asked at last, needing to distract her mind from the vengeful thoughts about getting back at all those who had wronged her in some way.

"I asked Arthur that myself. He said that it was your fear of magic that had turned you in the first place. He didn't want anyone else to suffer, as you had, so he decided to allow magic once more...not give people a reason to fear their gifts. Of course, black magic is still outlawed, but the 'good magic' as he calls it, has been welcomed back again. If peace follows, then he will make it a permanent change. But if chaos follows, as Uther claimed had happened just before the Great Purge, then he will outlaw it again, and things will go back to the way they were."

There was a very subtle hint to Dante's words then, and Morgana frowned. "Is that a threat, Lady Dante?"

"A gentle reminder from Arthur," Dante replied, holding out her hands as if to say 'don't shoot the messenger'.

"He is willing to allow your stay here until you have recovered, but he said to warn you that he has allowed magic back to the lands, as you so desperately wanted, and if you use it against him now, you will give him reason to ban it and order your immediate execution."

"It's as if he doesn't know me at all," Morgana groaned as a fresh wave of pain overcame her, and she gritted her teeth. Dante reached for the bedside table again, but this time took a small bottle of some kind of tonic.

"For the pain," she said gently as Morgana allowed her to pour a few drops into her mouth. She felt the soothing effects almost immediately and knew that it must be some kind of magic tonic.

It also made her incredibly drowsy.

"Thank...you...cousin..." she said sleepily as her eyelids grew heavy.

"Cousin?" Dante repeated, confused. But Morgana was already deeply asleep once more.

_..._

"Iseldir!" Dante called as she ran down the corridor in a rather unladylike fashion to catch up to the druid chieftain, the heels of her leather boots betraying each hurried footstep as she clacked across the flagstones. "Iseldir!"

"Lady Dante? To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, stopping to allow her to catch up.

"I have a question about my mother."

"Yes, I thought you might," the druid grinned. Dante was forever finding him these days, whenever she had a spare moment, just to quiz him about her mother, so it came as no surprise to him. "I am on my way into the woods to collect some herbs for Gaius. Would you care to join me?"

"I have nothing better to do," She grinned as he extended an arm. Dante looped her own through his so that they could walk together across the courtyard towards the stables at a rather more dignified pace.

"Nothing? I cannot believe Camelot's First Lady and unsung hero of the Saxon Wars has _nothing_ to do with herself these days," he laughed.

"Unsung hero? I burned down a castle. How is that heroic?" She asked, eyebrows raised, believing that he was making fun of her.

"It ended the war, sparing thousands of lives. I would say that was pretty heroic, young one, whether you agree with me or not."

"We don't know for sure the war is over yet, though," she pointed out as they stepped into the gloom of the stable block and Iseldir called for the stable boy to make the horses ready for them.

"Until the Saxons officially surrender to us, or flee home, we are still in danger. People already celebrate the Saxon defeat, yet they could be upon us again at any time. We cannot dare to let our guard down." Clearly she was stalling for time, as she'd made no further mention of this question she'd been so desperate to ask him just a few seconds earlier. Still, she must have her reasons, so he decided to humour her and go along with this current line of conversation.

"And that is why I always maintain that you have a wise head upon those pretty young shoulders of yours," Iseldir smiled warmly, patting her on the shoulder to emphasise his point. "If only all monarchs were as astute as you, the world would be a better place for it."

"I will never be Queen," she sighed. Then as an afterthought she added, "I'm not even sure I'd want to be Queen. Too much power."

"With great power comes great responsibility," Iseldir nodded gravely.

"It's not the responsibility that bothers me," Dante corrected with a shake of her head. "It's the power you are given. In my mind, no one person should rule all. What makes them any better than the people who serve them? What gives a king the right to lop off a man's head and call it justice, whilst a lesser man commits the same action and it is called murder? I do not want power Iseldir. Never have done."

"Yet you are content to serve those who do have it?" He questioned, and she opened her mouth to protest, then realised the trap she'd just walked herself into.

Iseldir laughed and led the horses out into the courtyard now that they were ready. He helped Dante into Vixen's saddle then mounted his own horse. "We'll head for the Darkling Woods," he told her as they started off, side by side. And then he dropped his voice. "And then you can ask me this burning question you've been waiting to speak. I am assuming it is something not meant for Camelot's ears."

"The question is innocent enough," Dante replied, her own voice low. "It's just the answer, I'm afraid of."


	9. Why Do We Fall?

Deep within the cover of the Darkling Woods, Dante was watching Iseldir as he collected the various roots and herbs that grew in the undergrowth. She had no idea what each plant looked like, and had admitted that she was probably as much help to him as a legless horse. This had made him chuckle, and he'd then assured her that it was alright, he wasn't expecting her to help him, he'd just assumed she needed a few hours out of the city.

She hadn't denied that, and had set about climbing up onto a fallen tree, balancing carefully as she walked back and forth along it's thick trunk. Once or twice she slipped, or lost her balance, but she never fell.

"I'm impressed," Iseldir complimented as he stood to watch her for a few moments.

"Thanks," she smiled, not looking at him as she concentrated on putting one foot carefully in front of the other.

"Shame you don't have the same balance on the back of a horse."

Dante really did slip then, surprised by his witty comment, and landed in a tumbled heap amongst some fallen leaves. Iseldir rushed to her, only to find her lying on her back, giggling hysterically.

"I swear your mother was never this clumsy," the druid grinned as he hauled her back to her feet and she brushed the leaves off. "Which reminds me, you had something to ask about her? We are alone...so now is as good a time as any, is it not?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," she nodded, although she still glanced all around them anyway, just in case. Then she shrugged and decided to plough ahead regardless. No point beating about the bush, after all. "Did my mother have a sister?"

"Ah. I had been wondering when you would finally ask me that," the druid nodded, like he'd been expecting this particular question for quite some time.

"Well?" Dante asked, jumping up to sit on the log this time, her feet dangling a few inches above the floor.

"I will not lie to you, My Lady. Yes, she did. And yes, she is Morgana's mother."

"So Morgana and I are cousins? You are certain?"

"I am," Iseldir nodded. "Is this why you didn't want to ask me back in Camelot?"

"Yes," Dante replied distractedly - her mind clearly elsewhere. "If people knew we were related, they'd jump to conclusions and judge me because of Morgana's actions."

"May I ask how you found out?"

"She told me. Well...she called me cousin. I thought she was mistaken at first, you know? Delirious from the sleeping potions, or stress or something. But the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me that perhaps she might be speaking the truth."

"And this is a bad thing?"

Dante shrugged then, not really willing to say any more. How could she tell him that she felt a connection to Morgana like only two family members could know? How could she tell him that there was this overwhelming urge deep within her to protect and look out for Morgana? How could she tell him that she loved Morgana? Not in a romantic way, of course, but in more of the family sense of the word.

Would he understand?

She very much doubted it. He didn't even know that she was working with Morgana now. Or...did he?

And then, as she thought about it, another realisation dawned on her.

"You've known all along that she and I are related. Did it not occur to you to tell me sooner?" A sudden anger had crept into her tone - an anger she'd never intended, but could not hold back, all the same. "Did it not occur to you to tell me AT ALL? You said you knew I would ask, and yet you waited until I did. Why?"

"For the simple reason that I did not wish to fan the flames of your doom. You seem perfectly capable of doing that yourself, by the looks of things," he said sharply, before turning and stalking off back into the woods to collect more herbs, angry in his own way.

"The flames of my...? Iseldir? What did you mean by that? Iseldir!" She hoisted up her skirt slightly as she hurried after him so that it no longer dragged in the mud. She hadn't expected to go trudging through the woods today after all, so hadn't exactly dressed accordingly.

She caught up to him on the edge of the woods as he strapped his basket of herbs to the back of his borrowed horse.

"Explain," she demanded, standing before him with her hands on her hips and effectively cornering him between his horse in front, the huge oak that the horse was tethered to, to his left, and her behind. His only way out was to his right, and this borrowed horse of his had a nasty and well known habit of kicking anyone who stepped too close to its hindquarters. A bright crimson ribbon in its tail served as a simple warning to keep clear.

"Iseldir...what did you mean? Please...Am I to die by fire? Is that what you meant? Iseldir, please...You're frightening me!" Suddenly afraid and scared, her voice cracked on the last word.

At this, Iseldir sighed and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Milady. It was never my intent to scare you," he spoke softly, all his own anger gone now, too. "I spoke out of turn. Forgive me."

"Only if you'll tell me what you meant. Please Iseldir, tell me the truth...am I going to die?"

"All things die, child. Everything must end. Your time will come, just like mine, and your father's, and Arthur's...nobody lives forever."

"I know that," she nodded, still fighting back the fear that had suddenly seized her with icy cold fingers. "But you said something of fire..."

"I know you are the acolyte of the priestess, Morgana," he said at length. "Most of the kingdom _knows_, but everyone is in denial. As long as you keep yourself out of trouble, it will give them no reason to suspect that these rumours are true. But I urge you, child, to act before it is too late...save yourself from the fires that will otherwise consume you, body and soul."

"What would you have me do?" she asked quietly. There was no point denying his words - Iseldir had always had a way of seeing through her lies. To be honest with him was probably the best thing she could do right now.

"Either sever all ties to the witch...or confess your crimes to the king now, whilst they are still few and minor. He will punish you, yes, but the punishment will not be so severe. Not as severe as if you are caught later on, carrying out the treasonous crimes of the witch."

"I...I can't..." she replied quietly, turning away and kicking a stick at her feet. "She is my cousin...how can I turn my back against my own flesh and blood?"

"You must. For the good of the kingdom...and the preservation of your life. Unless you wish to die?"

"Of course I don't!"

"Yet you are making no effort to save yourself, either."

"Because I'm in no danger! You said so yourself, nobody believes the rumours."

"Dante, child, you are balancing upon the brink of an abyss. You MUST be careful! Stray but a little, and you will fall." He let out a long, resigned sigh then. "This was the very reason I never told you. I knew of the dilemma it would place you in." He gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I was trying to spare you, so that you would not feel such conflict. But then, I could never lie to you either, so when you asked me, I had to speak truly. I could never lie to your mother either."

"You really cared for her, didn't you?" Dante asked, welcoming the sudden distraction from the topic of her apparent doom.

"I did," Iseldir nodded. "She was a loyal friend. Saying goodbye to her after she chose to remain with your father was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. And now I feel that I owe it to her to protect you, and keep you safe from harm."

"Do you think she's still alive?" Dante asked, though there was no hope in her voice. She had lost all hope of ever seeing her mother again. But Iseldir, it appeared, had not.

"Yes, she is alive. Of that I am certain. She was a strong woman - stronger even than you, my girl, and look at all you've survived. Somewhere out there, she's alive and waiting. Waiting for the opportune moment to escape her captors and return to us."

"Then let's hope I'm not consumed by this fire you spoke of, before that day comes," Dante managed a wry smile then, through her sorrow, and Iseldir smiled back, patting her on the shoulder once more.

"Come, child, we have a long ride back to the Citadel, and you have much to think on, I'm sure."

"Too much," Dante muttered. "Why can life never be simple?"

"Why do we fall, Milady?" Iseldir asked as he swung into the saddle, after helping her into her own. When she gave him a blank stare, he smiled and said, "So that we can learn to pick ourselves up again. You've fallen many times now, and always found your feet after. This time is no different."

"No," she agreed. "But the fall is bigger. Much bigger."

"And it will hurt. Perhaps even break you. But whilst there's still breath in your body, you can rise from it again. I promise you."

"I wish I shared your confidence," she admitted as they started off side by side.

...

Mordred knocked lightly on Morgana's door, then checking to make sure that the coast was clear, he slipped inside and locked the door behind him so they would not be disturbed. After all, he was supposed to be keeping away from Morgana - everyone was, unless they were treating her and tending to her wounds. This didn't stop the Lady Dante from sneaking quick visits every now and then, and neither did it stop him, however.

"Good evening, Milady," he smiled when he saw her sitting up in the bed, already looking more like her old self, the spark slowly returning to her tired eyes, and a bit of colour to her pale cheeks.

"Mordred!" she visibly brightened when she saw who it was.

"How are you feeling?" he was always sincere when he asked this. He cared a great deal for Morgana, after all. The pair of them had been through so much together, and he owed her his life. Unlike Merlin, who'd turned on him in the end, Morgana had always been true to him. And loyal, too. She was like a big sister, a mother and his best friend, all rolled into one.

"Much better than I've felt in a long time," she answered him now, a joyful smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Careful Milady," he teased, sitting on the end of her bed. "If anyone sees that smile, they'll think you're going soft in your old age."

Her foot, beneath the covers, booted him heavily and he flew off the bed, staggering and laughing.

"I'll give you old age," she laughed along with him. "Speaking of old age, you never did tell me how old you are now."

"Eighteen. A man grown. I'm training to be a knight."

"Why?" The look of disgust was evident then. Clearly knights had lost her favour, some time ago.

"To get closer to Arthur, of course. Why else?"

Her disgust turned to admiration then. "A clever plan. Is it working?"

"Well, it would be moving along much swifter, were it not for your acolyte," he grumbled, sitting back on the bed once more.

"Dante? Why? What has she got to do with anything?"

"She keeps getting in my way!" He protested, sounding like an eight year old child then. "And after this whole thing with Gwaine, he never leaves me alone! Wherever I go, he's there, checking up on me!"

"What whole thing with Gwaine?" Morgana frowned. Mordred studied her face for a moment, then gasped.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Mordred," Morgana snapped, suddenly sounding like her old self once more. "I've been chained in a dungeon for the best part of the last three years...news generally tended to evade me somewhat during that time, and I find I am sorely behind on all the gossip."

"Good point," he conceded. "Well then, let me be the first to tell you that the golden couple - Sir Gwaine of Caerleon and Lady Dante of Arryn - are no longer a couple at all. The engagement has been cancelled and they are on somewhat hostile terms, right now."

"Why did they break up?" Morgana sounded stunned. "They were perfect for one another!"

"So I've been told," Mordred shrugged. "But it seems that nobody had the insight to forewarn the Lady about her fiancé's bouts of jealousy. He took one look at Dante and I riding out on one of our scouts together, the both of us laughing at a joke that I had just told to lighten the mood, and he decided that we were too close for his liking. He confronted her that evening, so I'm told, and after a very heated argument that was impossible to overhear, she apparently took her ring off and threw it in his face. Since then, they refuse to be in the same room together, and if they DO have to speak, it's very cold...professional courtesy is there of course...but it's cold, none the less."

"Interesting," Morgana muttered thoughtfully to herself. "Sir Gwaine could prove to be a bigger problem than I'd first assumed, then. And what of Lot of Essetir? Are he and Dante still on 'frosty' terms as well?"

"Their enmity has thawed considerably recently, Milady, since they found common cause."

"Which is?"

"To see your safe return. Now that this has been accomplished, however, I cannot possibly predict what will happen next."

"And nobody knows that Dante is working for me?"

"Oh, people suspect, of course," Mordred shrugged. "She didn't exactly keep it a secret that she wanted you rescued, though of course she spun it to look like she was afraid for the safety of the nation. What if you'd spilled Arthur's secrets to the Saxons? She played VERY heavily on that angle. But the people still suspect her allegiance to you. Whilst there is no proof, however, they cannot act on it. I, on the other hand, am completely above their suspicions. Only Merlin knows that you and I were ever close. Arthur remembers our first encounter, but believes that I have forgotten you - and I have not corrected him on that thought."

"Then Merlin and Dante had best be very careful, from now on," Morgana decided, and Mordred grinned.

"I hear they both like to walk the battlements on a pleasant eve and watch the sun set. It's very easy to _slip_ and _fall_ if you are not careful."

"Well we wouldn't want THAT now, would we," Morgana smirked, understanding exactly what he was getting at. Then she reached out a pale hand and took Mordred's. "I think I may have to find a use for you and your little tricks, Mordred. Dante is a loyal servant, but she lacks vision...she has too much heart and worries too much about her enemies. You are not like that, I can tell."

"My judgement is not clouded, Milady," he replied, bowing his head. "I have no love for your brother or his people, and I am sorry to say I hold no love for your cousin, either. Perhaps it is time you let her loose and found yourself a new servant? Someone who is utterly loyal and devoted to your cause... Someone who would gladly see you sit the golden throne of Camelot..."

"Someone like you?"

"Someone like me," he nodded in agreement.

She studied him for a long time, before tilting her head slightly to one side. "You have a plan, I trust?"

"As it so happens, Milady, I do."


	10. Keep Her Secret Keep Her Safe

**Author Note: Alright, hands up who believes that Dante and Gwaine really did split up, after spending pretty much the entirity of the first story getting together? Well, here, my friends, is a chapter that will explain everything. And of course, as always, not everything is as it seems.**

**Oh and we also get Merlin finally opening up about his love life - or rather his lack of one...though when revealing this to Gwaine, one has to wonder if this is truly the best idea the young warlock's ever had!**

**...**

Merlin wasn't exactly sure why Gwaine had needed to accompany him into the woods that morning. Gaius has asked him to collect some herbs from one side of the Darkling Woods, whilst Iseldir was to collect from the other side. Merlin was more than capable of finding the herbs himself, but for some reason, the stubborn knight had insisted he join him and, being a good friend, Merlin had been unable to refuse him.

Besides, Gwaine was actually proving to be of great use - he knew many of the herbs from his time as a 'ragged ranger' (as everyone had taken to calling his previous lifestyle before his knighthood). But that still didn't explain WHY he needed to be there with Merlin.

"Dante went out with Iseldir this morning, " he stated now, depositing a fist full of various leaves into Merlin's basket.

"Did she?" Merlin asked, surprised. "Why would she do that?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Why would she tell me where she's going?" Merlin looked confused. Gwaine studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. Forget I said anything."

"You still love her, don't you," Merlin said, watching carefully for the knight's reaction. Rather than deny anything, Gwaine just sighed and shrugged, which Merlin took as a sign of confirmation.

He opened his mouth to say something...and words failed him. What COULD he say?

_I'm sorry she broke your heart..._

_ You're better off without her..._

_ You deserve so much more than she could ever give you..._

All those comments, and many more, cycled round his head, but he simply couldn't get his mouth to speak any of them.

"I'm sorry," he managed eventually. And then he turned away, hoping that Gwaine would change the subject. But the knight had other ideas.

"Have you ever been in love, Merlin?"

"No," the young warlock replied quickly. Too quickly for Gwaine's liking, apparently.

"Yeah, right," the knight scoffed. "And I'm the Queen of Avalon."

"Your Majesty," Merlin grinned, ducking the clump of moss that suddenly flew in his direction.

"Come on Merlin, there must have been someone. You can tell me, surely? I won't tell anyone."

"Until you've had a few gallons of ale poured down your throat."

"Hey, my love life's a mess. I'm in no position to criticize everyone else's. Besides, even I have standards, Merlin. Come on."

"Alright," Merlin laughed at the 'wounded' face Gwaine was pulling at him now. "Alright, if you must know...I've been in love twice."

"But not anymore, I'm sensing," Gwaine frowned. "What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Merlin sighed, turning away again. But still Gwaine wasn't satisfied.

"You can't leave me in suspense like that, Merlin! Who were they? Would I know them? What happened to make you so...so...against women?!"

"I'm not against women!" Merlin protested. "I kissed Dante, didn't I?"

"_She_ kissed _you_."

"There's a difference?"

"With most women? No. With Dante? Yes! She's very picky about who she kisses...or at least she always used to be. That was always the sworn mission of every boy within a five mile radius of Arryn, when we were growing up - to be the one who successfully earned a kiss from the High Lord's daughter."

"And how many succeeded?" Merlin asked, glad of the distraction, even though it was only a short one.

"Just the one," Gwaine grinned, looking very smug with himself. And then he frowned. "Hey, you changed the topic! And you still haven't told me who these mysterious lovers of yours were, or what happened to them."

"Because there's not much to tell," Merlin lied, walking back to his horse now that they had collected everything they needed from this part of the woods.

"Merlin! I won't stop until you tell me!" Gwaine warned in a teasing tone, apparently relieved that he didn't seem to be the only one who was unlucky in love. When it still seemed that Merlin would not tell him a thing, Gwaine sighed. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. You tell me what happened between you and these girls, and I'll tell you what happened between me and Dante."

"Everyone knows what happened between you and Dante," Merlin shrugged, not seeing the benefits to this deal. But when he caught Gwaine's eye, he paused.

"There are some things nobody knows but her and me," Gwaine replied darkly. "Things that must never be repeated to anyone."

Now Merlin's curiosity was piqued. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal. What was it you wanted to know?"

"Well, who these women are for a start," Gwaine replied, his mood lightening again in an instant. "And why we've never heard about them before now."

"Well, there was Freya," Merlin sighed as he swung himself into the saddle. Gwaine hopped lightly into his own saddle and they started off at a gentle walk through the forest, side by side.

"Freya? Pretty name," Gwaine nodded in approval. "What happened to her?"

"She...she died. And it was my fault."

"I'm sorry," Gwaine said sincerely. Merlin had expected more questions after that, but surprisingly, the knight remained respectfully quiet, which was a blessing. It didn't make Merlin feel like he was under pressure. He could reveal things in his own time, when he was most comfortable.

"She was a druid," he said eventually. Gwaine glanced sideways at him, but said nothing further, just waiting and listening. After a few more moments to let the grief (which was still painful to bear, even after all these years) subside, Merlin carried on, telling Gwaine everything, from the moment he'd first met Freya, chained in that slaver's cart, to the moment he'd watched her die. Then, considering Gwaine was one of his closest friends these days, Merlin even made the decision to tell him about how Freya had become the Lady of the Lake, and had helped Merlin, even after her death (although he conveniently left out the part where he used magic during their encounters, and instead claimed that she came to him in a 'dream').

"It seems you have a good taste in women," Gwaine commented eventually. "To have one who loved you so much, even through everything else that was going on. And to help you, even after death had claimed her...do you think Dante would ever do the same for me?"

"Without a doubt," Merlin nodded fervently. "She still loves you, Gwaine. I see it in her eyes every time someone says your name. Give her time, she'll come back to you. When she realises how stupid she's been."

"Perhaps," Gwaine nodded, though he didn't sound convinced. Then he shook his head, as if waking from a dream, and looked back to Merlin again. "So, come on then, that's one. Who's this other striking beauty who stole your heart?"

"Morgana," Merlin shrugged, affecting a casual air, as if it was no big deal.

Gwaine almost fell off his horse in surprise, righted himself quickly, then blinked several times, before shaking his head again.

"Wow, I really must be deaf," he frowned. "Because I swear I just heard you say 'Morgana'. But that can't be right."

"No, you heard correctly," Merlin assured him.

Gwaine leaned over then and knocked lightly on Merlin's temple. "Hello? Is this thing working?"

"There's nothing wrong with my mind," Merlin laughed, swatting his hand away. "It was years ago, way back before she became all...evil and..."

"Twisted and bitchy and psychotic and tyrannical and vile?" Gwaine supplied helpfully.

"Yes," Merlin laughed again. "Back before all those things, when she was still Uther's Ward, and had no idea of the magic she possessed. She was different back then, Gwaine. Kind, sweet, fiercely protective and loyal to her friends...even merciful and forgiving."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same Morgana, here? Because I cannot imagine that AT ALL," Gwaine frowned.

"Well, imagine Dante as she is now," Merlin supplied, trying to think of an example that Gwaine would be able to follow and understand. "She's all the things I just said about Morgana, and more. Then imagine someone did something terrible to her that was so awful it was...well it was unforgivable. But she was expected to forgive him, none-the-less. Then imagine she found out that she had magic, and she was scared and afraid because she didn't know who to turn to, and she was terrified for her very life..."

"I see where you're going with this, now," Gwaine nodded, comprehension in his eyes. "So alright, perhaps it's not so hard to believe, about Morgana then. And I do have to admit, behind all that evil bitchiness, she is a very beautiful young woman. Heartless, cruel, merciless and evil to the core...but beautiful as well."

"She is," Merlin agreed.

"So what happened to turn her so definitely against her friends?"

"I poisoned her."

For the second time in as many minutes, Gwaine almost fell from his horse. "You did WHAT?!"

So Merlin was forced to explain everything that had happened, with Morgana's magic and how he'd tried to help her. Then how her sister had turned up and twisted her, using Morgana for her own evil ends. He also explained the whole incident with the Knights of Medhir, and how at the time, he'd seen no choice but to do what he'd done, and poison Morgana. Of course he seriously regretted it now, and there was no doubt in his mind that this had been the turning point - the moment when she'd tipped over the edge and taken her first step to joining the opposing side - but Gwaine seemed very sympathetic as he listened.

He didn't seem angry, or disappointed...it was like he understood exactly what Merlin was going through. Which got the young warlock thinking.

"So...you said you'd make me a deal. I kept up my end," he said after a brief period of silence. Gwaine looked, for one moment, as if he was about to back out of his end of the deal, but eventually he sighed.

"Well, you heard the argument?"

"The whole citadel did," Merlin admitted, and Gwaine nodded. He'd figured as much.

"What you didn't hear, however, was the conversation we had before everything kicked off."

"So it wasn't a simple case of jealousy, then?" Merlin asked, forgetting that it was supposedly Gwaine who'd had the fit of jealousy in the first place. Gwaine shook his head, then glanced around to make sure they were well and truly alone, before dropping his voice so low that Merlin had to move closer to hear him.

"She told me that she was being blackmailed by Mordred and King Lot into helping them find Morgana. She never wanted to, but they were threatening her family...and me. She had no choice but to do what she did and rescue Morgana, whilst Mordred never left her alone to warn anyone. The only way she was able to warn me was when I got jealous about how 'friendly' she was getting with him. She dragged me into her room so that we would be alone, admitted everything to me quietly, and then started the argument, knowing full well that Mordred would be waiting right outside her door. I thought she was REALLY arguing with me at first, so I argued back and, well let's just say the whole thing became a little more realistic than we'd expected. But it was only afterwards that I came to realise, it had all been an act, on her part. She'd known Mordred was listening in, so she'd tried to protect me by severing all ties to me. If we were no longer together, he could not use me as leverage to bend her to his will."

Whilst Merlin didn't believe any of the 'blackmail' part for one moment, as he was one of the very few who knew the truth about Dante, he WAS stunned by the rest of what he'd heard. "So...she broke up with you...to protect you?" That part, at least, he COULD believe.

"Yes," Gwaine nodded sadly. "And whilst Mordred and Morgana are around, we can never be together. Being mean to her is the hardest thing I have EVER had to do, Merlin! A part of me dies each time I have to act like I don't care about her. I can't stand it! And I know she can't either. But what can we do?"

Hearing hoof beats behind them, both suddenly turned in their saddles to see Iseldir and Dante emerging from a side path on their own horses. Iseldir looked like he was enjoying the pleasant ride, but Dante looked deeply troubled, and lost in thought.

"I think it's time you had another chat," Merlin said quietly to the knight as they slowed to allow the other two a chance to catch up. "Away from the eyes and ears of the city."

"We can't..." Gwaine started, though it appeared that he so desperately wanted nothing more than to go to Dante and reassure her that everything would be alright. "What about Iseldir?"

"He's a wise man who knows many things. Chances are he already knows about the pair of you. Now stop stalling and go to her," Merlin urged him gently, moving his horse out of the way so that Gwaine and Dante could walk side by side. "It's been two years since you 'broke up'...you both deserve a break."

"We do," Gwaine nodded decisively. Then without another word, he moved right over to ride beside Vixen and her pensive rider, who glanced up finally, when he reached out and touched her lightly on the arm.

"Sir Gwaine," she greeted frostily, though now that Merlin knew about their 'act', he could tell that her harshness was all for show. Her eyes betrayed how she truly felt.

"They know, Dante," Gwaine smiled slightly, feeling somewhat relieved for the moment that he could just be himself. Dante, startled, looked to Merlin and Iseldir for a moment, then smiled as well, heaving a very visible sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness for that. All this...all this 'hate' is killing me."

"Me too," Gwaine nodded, reaching his hand out again. This time, she reached up and placed hers in his, and he kissed the back of it lightly, eliciting another smile. And that was when Merlin noticed Gwaine's engagement ring, sitting prettily on her right ring finger.

_So much for the rumours about her throwing it at him,_ he thought wryly as he and Iseldir spurred their horses on a little, leaving the lovers to trail behind at their own pace, and enjoy some rare time together.

"We're losing her, Emrys," Iseldir muttered quietly when they were out of earshot. Merlin looked at him sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"She's confused and alone...she needs guidance now, more than ever, but has nobody who she can turn to and trust. One wrong word from the wrong mouth and she will be lost forever to death, or darkness. Whichever claims her first."

"Is there nothing we can do to help her?" Alright, he may not like the woman - she was a traitor, after all - but he still felt sorry for her. Especially as everyone was so convinced that she was doomed to some horrific fate.

"Guide her, Emrys. You know her secret. One of the rare few who do. You are also the only one who can guide her in the right direction. So it must be you who guides her. She'll listen to you."

"Will she?" Merlin wasn't convinced.

"She'll have to, if she wants to keep that pretty head on those pretty shoulders," Iseldir sighed. "I must leave the city for a time. So it's down to you now, Emrys. Keep her secret. Keep her safe."

"I'll try," Merlin nodded, glancing back over his shoulder to see that Gwaine and Dante had fallen back even further, apparently in no hurry to go home. They were riding so close that their knees brushed lightly together, and they were holding hands in the way that only a pair of young lovers can.

"I'll try," he assured the old druid again. "But it won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is," was all the reply he got.


	11. The Lady and the Giant

**Author Note: Wow, who's seen the first episode of this new series? I won't spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, but O.M.G! It was epic!...Can't wait to see part two!**

**Anyways, in the meantime, here's a little chapter that explains in more detail what happened to Ulrich the Saxon. (I'm imagining him to be kind of like Heath Ledger in 'A Knight's Tale' - scruffy and unkempt when you first meet him, but damn does he scrub up well! lol**

**So enjoy :)**

...

Ulrich was waiting for Dante when she returned, sometime later that evening.

After sharing one final, lingering kiss back under the cover of the woods, she and Gwaine had reluctantly parted and rejoined their respective guides - Gwaine with Merlin, Dante with Iseldir - and entered the Citadel from different directions at different times to avoid suspicion. Ulrich the Saxon was waiting for Dante as she rode into the courtyard, some half hour after Gwaine and Merlin. Iseldir did not even dismount - he merely handed the basket of herbs to Gaius, who had come to greet them both, then turned his horse about and with a quick explanation about having things to do, he'd left again, leaving no room for questions.

Dante watched him go curiously, wondering what the old druid was up to, but then her manservant had turned up and she smiled at the Saxon.

"What news, Ulrich?" she asked as a stable boy took Vixen back to her stable and Ulrich led Dante inside.

"The Cornish King has brought his daughter to show off to Arthur's nobles at the feast tonight," Ulrich explained in his accented tongue. Three years as Dante's servant had made him fluent in her language - and he'd even taught her the basics of his - but he still could not lose the accent...and neither could he pronounce her name. Instead, she'd allowed him to call her Dany instead of Dante - though only in private.

"The feast?" She groaned now, only just remembering that it was Gwen's birthday today and Arthur was holding a feast in her honour. "Why would he bring his daughter to show to the nobles?"

"He believes he can marry her off to someone of high standing in Arthur's court," Ulrich shrugged.

"Someone of high standing?" Dante frowned. "If he was High King, he'd have no problem marrying her off to anyone of his choosing. Does this mean he's given up the race for becoming High King then?"

"He has conceded that Arthur is the better king, and will move to support him when the time comes."

"Interesting," Dante said thoughtfully. Then she nodded. "Thank you Ulrich, you've done well," she congratulated him sincerely, patting him on the back. "Take the rest of the evening off, with Kahlee. Enjoy yourselves."

"But the feast?"

"Don't worry about that," Dante waved a hand, as if dismissing all thoughts of the upcoming event. "I won't be attending."

"May I ask why?"

"I have no particular desire to see other women swooning over Gwaine," she shrugged, already feeling depressed at the thought. Ulrich nodded in understanding then. He was one of the few - along with her maid Kahlee and now Merlin and Iseldir, as well - who knew that she and Gwaine were actually still together, and only keeping a distance for appearances sake.

"I would not like it if other men were falling all over Kahlee, I admit," he said after a moment.

Dante glanced at him and smiled. "You take care of her, Ulrich?"

"Always."

"Then you are a good man. One of a dying breed these days, I'm afraid."

"My thanks, Dany."

Well, at least something Dante had done had worked. She'd been the one to set Kahlee and Ulrich up together in the first place - a little nudge here, a carefully placed word there, and soon the two were madly in love. It was this love, and Ulrich's continued and devoted loyalty to Dante that had saved him from being executed or sent back home with the rest of his Saxon brethren. Dante had kept true to her word and freed him after he'd told her everything he could about the Saxon invaders, and she'd even offered him a position as her personal manservant.

Once he'd scrubbed himself up, shaved his beard, cropped his wild locks of hair and made himself presentable in clean, well fitting clothes, he was virtually unrecognizable as the scruffy Saxon bandit she'd arrested, so long ago. Now he was a decent, handsome young man, with perfect manners (once she'd taught him to speak her language fluently). His accent also gave him a certain sort of unique charm, and had Dante not been so utterly besotted with Gwaine, she may even have found herself with a fleeting fancy for him. As it was, it was Kahlee who had won his heart, and he'd told Dante almost every day since then that he'd never been happier than he was now, with a steady job, a kind mistress and a loving girlfriend.

Nearby, a shadow moved out from behind one of the pillars of the covered walkway. Mordred hadn't heard all of what they were saying, but he'd heard enough to bring a smile to his face.

Turning and hurrying away before he was seen, he headed for Morgana's chambers.

...

Morgana had managed to just about pull herself painfully over to the chair in front of the fire when there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," she called out tiredly, trying to settle herself more comfortably into a position that didn't aggravate her wounds. The sooner she got the energy to use her powers once more, the better.

"Great news," Mordred said, bounding into the room like a child high on sugar, or...

Morgana stared at him, eyebrows raised for a moment as he bounced on the spot.

Nope, he was definitely like a child with a sugar rush.

"Sit," she laughed eventually, his excitement far too infectious for her liking. "Take a deep breath."

Mordred did as he was told and sat obediently in the chair opposite her, but his foot continually tapped on the floor. He clearly had something very important, or exciting (or both) to tell her.

She briefly considered letting him wait, just to see how keyed up he really was, and how long it would take before he burst. But that foot tapping was annoying, and now he'd piqued her curiosity. She wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"Spill," she said at last when it appeared he could wait no longer.

"Mark's bringing his daughter to the feast, hoping to marry her off to one of Arthur's men to gain his favour and he's also pulled out of the race to become High King and will support Arthur now when the time comes and Dante isn't going to the feast tonight but Gwaine is!" He babbled excitedly.

Morgana blinked and took several moments to process this, then she nodded slowly. "Right, so let me get this straight...Dante's not going to the feast tonight. Why?"

"Don't know," Mordred shrugged, pouring two cups of wine and passing one to her. "Didn't hear that much."

"That's unusual for her," Morgana mused. "She always attends every event. She's First Lady - she HAS to attend everything, unless she's indisposed. Is she ill, perhaps?"

"Now that you come to mention it," Mordred pondered, sobering as he took a few sips of wine, "She did look a little under the weather. Perhaps she is coming down with something?"

"We'll need to keep an eye on that, then. An indisposed acolyte isn't good for anything. And you say Mark's daughter will be at the feast?"

"Yes. Apparently he's hoping to marry her to someone from Arthur's court to secure the two kingdoms in allegiance. Which means he's out of the running for High King, himself, but will be a firm supporter of Arthur."

"Interesting," Morgana mused again. "Who does that leave left in the running?"

"Arthur, Lot and Godwyn, I do believe. Odin dropped out, but remains a champion of Lot, and now Mark has become a champion of Arthur."

"Along with Alined, Olaf, Annis, Mythian, Bayard and Benedict."

"Yes, but Lot has Odin, Nantes, Idris, Ban and Rience behind him. It'll be a close call in the end, but I don't believe Godwyn will stand a chance," Mordred explained, counting each king off on his fingers as he named them.

"We need to somehow work this to our favour," Morgana said after a long pause. "And whilst there's two easy options open to us, Mark may have just provided a back-up plan."

"He has?" Mordred frowned. "How?"

So Morgana proceeded to outline each of her three plans to him, and he listened very carefully, draining his cup of wine and refilling it a few times before she was finished.

When her explanations finally came to an end, he frowned thoughtfully. "And what does your acolyte say of all this?"

"Nothing, yet," Morgana shrugged, indifferently. "She doesn't know."

And that was when Mordred truly beamed in delight.

It appeared that Morgana was finally turning away from her cousin - losing all her trust and confidence in her. She was turning more and more towards Mordred every day. Soon the Lady Dante would be disposable, and it would give him the greatest pleasure to arrange a little 'accident' to happen, when Morgana gave him the word to do so. He'd tolerated Dante for three years, and now he could tolerate her no longer. She was one of those people, you simply loved or hated.

And he certainly didn't love her. Never had done, even from the very beginning when she'd tried to befriend him. He'd known all along that she was just using him for his magic. Using him to help her find Morgana. Since they'd successfully rescued her, however, she'd kept a wide berth from him, not even batting an eyelid when they passed in the corridor, not even acknowledging him when he walked into the same room as her.

As far as she was concerned, their friendship was over now that they had accomplished their goal. And as far as he was concerned, they'd never had a friendship to begin with.

This evening was just getting better and better for him.

...

Percival had also watched Dante ride back in with Iseldir, then wander off towards her quarters with Ulrich. He knew that she had seen Gwaine out in the forest (he knew a lot more than he was often given credit for), and he was pleased that their split was just a lie. To what point and purpose it served, he neither knew nor cared. But he also knew that they would not be able to keep it up forever. Gwaine was his friend. Dante was the closest thing he had to a sister.

As he watched her, noting the sadness that she was trying to hide from the world, he quickly made up his mind to help her and Gwaine, in any way he could.

Walking briskly through the Citadel, his scarlet cape billowing out behind him, he finally caught up with the Lady and her servant at the foot of the winding stairs leading to her quarters.

"Lady Dante!" He called out. "May I have an audience?"

"Of course, Sir Percival," Dante nodded, although she was somewhat surprised by his request. Never-the-less she sent Ulrich on his way, before inviting the Knight up to her private quarters.

"What can I do for you, Percy?" She asked lightly as he followed her into her room, closing the door behind him.

"I came to check that you are alright," he spoke honestly, standing in the doorway and pulling off his leather gloves, which he then proceeded to fiddle with as he stood waiting for her reply.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she asked, once again surprised by his question. It wasn't often that Percival traded words with anyone, after all. Yet here he was now, making conversation with her, and enquiring as to how she was faring.

"I know about you and Gwaine," he shrugged, attempting his version of nonchalance (meaning he simply looked down at the gloves in his hands as he turned the soft leather over and over).

"Everyone knows about me and Gwaine," she shrugged, moving to pour two cups of wine. Then she offered one to him, which he took (out of politeness. He had no intention of actually drinking it).

"No Vixen, you misunderstand me," he corrected, allowing himself to move a little further into the room. "I _know _about you and Gwaine. I _know_ you're still together."

All the colour drained from her face. "How...how do you...?"

"There is a reason I do not speak much," he smiled gently. "It allows me to hear so much more."

"Does anyone else...?" She started worriedly, but he shook his head.

"Rest assured, not even the other knights know what I know. Your secret's safe with me, I promise you."

"Thank you, Percy." The look of gratitude was not lost on her then, and it was almost as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "And it was kind of you to come and check on me like this, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you, though?" He asked suspiciously. "You look...well, in all honesty, you look tired."

To his relief, she chose not to take this as an insult, and actually laughed a little instead. "Oh I am. I am SO tired. Of everything. Sometimes I wish I was born a nobody. A commoner. Life would be so much simpler then."

"Not necessarily," he replied, moving over to the table and setting his untouched cup of wine on it, along with his leather gloves. "I was a commoner before Arthur knighted me. Life for me was much different than it is now. And not in a good way. At least we nobles don't have to worry about where our next meal's coming from, or how we will survive the winter. We don't have to worry about the harvest and how much our goods will make at market. We don't have to worry about taxes and how we'll scrape together the money to pay them in time. And we don't have to worry about our safety. We're tucked up in this huge stone fortress, whilst out there, all the people have is mud, bricks and thatch to keep them safe. We are the lucky ones."

"Then why do I not feel it?" Dante sighed, slumping into a chair, looking for all the world as if she was submitting to some kind of defeat. "Why do I feel old, Percival? Older than I should. Why do I feel like the whole world is pressing down around my shoulders, and nothing I do can shift the weight?"

"That's just all this with Gwaine, the Saxons and Morgana. You worry too much about everything, yet never allow anyone else to share the burden."

"And who would share it with me?"

"Someone with shoulders strong enough to bear the weight for you," he smiled again, moving round behind her and placing his huge, calloused hands on her slim shoulders. Then he began to gently massage them, feeling just how tense she actually was.

"And what would this mighty Hercules do to help such a damsel in distress?" she asked with a tired smile.

"He would take her to the feast tonight, entertain her, help her to loosen up and enjoy the evening. Then in the morning, he would find a way to help her see her beloved more often without arousing suspicion. He may even ask her to share some of her other troubles, so that he may bear their burdens, as well."

"Such a gallant offer," she sighed wistfully. "Though I am afraid the Lady you speak of is in no mood to feast and be merry. Especially not when you consider that her beloved will also be there. Being so close to him, and yet so far, will be much more painful for her than if she were simply to avoid the feast altogether."

"And what about the questions? The ones that demand why she did not attend the feast?" He asked softly as he felt her muscles loosen beneath his fingertips, slowly, but surely, as she began to relax. "Better to put in an appearance and an early exit, than not to show at all."

"I suppose," she agreed. "She would not hear the end of it otherwise. But only for a short while?"

"We leave whenever you desire - be it five minutes later, or five hours later. Consider me your humble servant for the evening."

"I already have servants," she grinned, tilting her head back to look up at him as he towered over her. "But a friend might be nice."

"I will be whatever you ask of me," he nodded.

She held his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than she should have, then quickly looked back towards the table, under the pretence of looking for her cup of wine. Her cheeks coloured in embarrassment, but if Percival noticed, he made no indication of it, for which she was grateful. She was glad that nobody could see the two of them now, however.

Although it was a friendly gesture on Percival's part, and completely harmless, she could see how this could be taken out of context by an outsider - the smiles and banter could be made to look like flirting, whilst his massage of her aching shoulders could be interpreted as close physical contact, the likes of which only two who were romantically involved could ever share.

But she was not romantically involved with Percival. Yes, he was handsome. Stupidly handsome in fact, with the body of a God. Yes he was brave and bold and courageous, and yes he had a heart of gold. But she was not attracted to him in the same way she was drawn to Gwaine. Percival had always been - and would always be - a brother to her, just as much as the other Round Table Knights. She loved him as a brother, and a dear friend - but that was all.

As he eased up with the gentle massage and simply stood with his hands resting on her shoulders instead, she leant her head against one huge thick forearm. "What would I do without you?" She asked eventually.

"Sit up here and sulk, most likely," he retorted with a laugh as he ruffled her hair playfully. "Now go get ready. The feast starts in an hour, and I know what you women are like at getting ready."

"Yes Sir," she grinned, some of the mischievous glint returning to her eyes as she stood and gave him a mock bow. He settled himself into her recently vacated seat as she moved into her bedchambers to get herself ready, closing the door behind her.

Then he pulled his own cup of wine towards him. Perhaps he would have that drink, after all.


	12. Eira

**Author Note: So, I personally cannot wait for tonight's Merlin episode, although I know not everyone is lucky enough to be able to watch the new series just yet, so I shall not spoil it for you in any way.**

**I'll just post another chapter to keep you going, instead, lol**

**Enjoy, R and R as always :)**

**...**

The feast that evening was just as lavish as always, with food to feed a thousand even though there was probably only a few hundred actually in the throne room where the event was being held. Gwen looked resplendent in a deep crimson dress with a very thin crown perched amongst the glossy curls of her hair. Tiny rubies were woven into every few strands, making her sparkle in the candlelight every time she moved.

Arthur, beside her, looked just as kingly as always in his shining chain mail and slim golden crown, with his scarlet cloak billowing about his muscular form every time he moved.

And Gwaine? Well, Dante didn't even attempt to look for him, because so long as she put him from her mind, she was alright. But even just the thought of seeing him and having to be harsh to him was enough to set her knees to jelly, and she'd clutch Percival's arm even tighter.

Dressed in a simple purple dress with her hair in an equally simple braid, she suddenly felt very out of place and under-dressed, considering her station as First Lady. But then she reminded herself that she would not be staying long, so it did not matter.

"You look wonderful," Percival grinned as she fussed with her hair for a third time in as many minutes. "Leave it alone, or you'll undo it."

"I can't bear the thought of seeing him," she whined into the wine cup that she'd just taken from one of the serving boys.

"Then don't look for him. If he has any sense, he'll stay away." And then Percival paused and grinned wryly. "Although, this is Gwaine we're talking about. I think he missed out on his serving of common sense."

Dante almost choked on her wine, before letting out an amused giggle.

"That's better," Percival laughed with her. "It's good to see you smile."

"I almost choked on my wine!" She coughed, wiping a tear from her eye with the back of one hand.

"Then let me get you another." He motioned for another serving boy to come over and removed the half empty wine cup from her hand, before replacing it with a full one.

"Percival!" She exclaimed. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"At least it would give you an excuse to leave early."

"Touché. In that case..." She downed the wine and held out the empty cup. "I'll have another."

"You are truly extraordinary, do you know that?" He laughed, grabbing another cup from a passing tray anyway.

"Nope," she smiled. "I just have a plan."

"Uh-oh," he smirked. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," she shrugged, downing that cup as well. "But it goes something like this. People will see me drinking. When they see me acting drunk, they'll assume I really AM. That way, anything foolish I do can be blamed on the drink."

"Are you planning anything foolish?" he asked suspiciously.

She shrugged.

"I never plan to do anything foolish, but I always end up doing it anyway. Might as well prepare myself this time."

"Are you sure you're not already drunk?" he laughed, steering her further towards Arthur and away from the other knights, who were milling around Gwaine, he'd just seen. Luckily Dante HADN'T seen him, and had enough sense not to ask why he was moving her to somewhere else.

Gwaine glanced once in her direction, smiled and nodded in thanks to Percival, then turned his back on them to spare himself the same pain as Percival was currently saving Dante from.

...

King Mark did not make an appearance for several hours, which was not good news for Dante. Despite insisting that she didn't want to stay long, she was curious to see what this Princess looked like. Percival promised that he would stay with her until the Princess showed. Then he would escort her back to her rooms. And true to his word, he remained with her the entire evening as they waited.

Already rumours had begun to spread throughout the hall that he and Dante were together, but both of them learned to ignore the whispers - as did Gwaine and the other knights. He hadn't told them that he and Dante were still together, though he'd figured by now that at least Percival must know. But to the others, he simply claimed that she was a free woman now, and could choose who she spent her evenings with. Apparently tonight it would appear that Percival was the lucky one.

"If she manages to string three words out of him, she'll be lucky," Tristan grinned, spearing a slice of apple from the table behind him with the tip of his dagger, then proceeding to munch loudly on it.

Elyan shrugged. "Maybe she likes the strong, silent type?"

"Would explain why she gave Gwaine the boot then," Tristan joked, digging Gwaine in the ribs with his elbow. Gwaine grinned, taking the insult good-naturedly and pretending to swipe for Tristan, though it was a slow motion move, and Tristan played along, ducking in slow motion. Elyan and Leon booed, then all of them laughed at the stupidity of it all.

Not long after, a fanfare announced Mark's arrival, and the hall fell silent, every eye turning to the door, just as the king walked in with a beautiful blonde woman on his arm. He was dressed in his usual kingly attire - leather jerkin and emerald green cloak with his emblem emblazoned upon it. The young blonde girl beside him was wearing a white dress with long flowing sleeves and an intricate beaded bodice. In her hair she wore an elaborate hairnet adorned with onyx stones.

Mark walked her up to Arthur and the two bowed to the Camelot King, before Mark announced his daughter to her.

"Might I have the pleasure to present my daughter, Princess Eira of Cornwall," he smiled. Arthur welcomed her with a kiss to the back of her hand, and Gwen gave her a friendly hug as the Princess wished her a happy birthday.

By then, the other guests had grown bored and gone back to their conversations, and soon the hall was filled with the joyful music and chatter of several hundred different conversations. Mark and his daughter went off to mingle...and Dante never took her eyes off the Princess.

"What do you think?" Percival asked, noticing her staring.

"I'm not sure. I..." Dante started, then paused as Eira made her way over to Gwaine. He bowed and kissed the back of her hand very chivalrously, and then the pair struck up a conversation. Percival saw the jealousy flash in Dante's eyes then.

"I don't like her," she announced suddenly, a little louder than she'd intended. Several of the nearby nobles turned to give her curious glances, and Dante realised that once again, she'd put her foot in it.

At least this time she was prepared, however. Downing her most recent cup of wine, she looked at Percival, winked (the signal they had pre-arranged) and then started to 'stagger' towards the door.

"Get me out of here, Percy," she announced. "I've had enough of this farce for one evening."

"As Milady commands," he obliged.

They had to pass Gwaine and his group to get out through the door, so Dante stuck her nose in the air and 'drunkenly' walked past, ignoring them all completely.

It was only as she reached the door that she heard Eira talk.

"Is that your former fiancée, Sir Knight?" She asked Gwaine, curiously and in a voice that was so sickeningly sweet it made Dante want to gag.

"It is," Gwaine replied, his voice clipped and curt.

"What a state. No wonder you left her."

Dante froze, one hand on the door.

"Uh-oh," Percival groaned. Then he placed a hand on her shoulder and muttered quietly, "Walk away Vixen. Walk away."

For one moment, he thought that Dante would ignore him. But then she pushed the door and it swung open. The knights breathed visible sighs of relief as she stalked out.

"She seems very proud," Eira commented thoughtfully, and Gwaine sighed.

"Too proud for her own good," he muttered, before he went in search of another drink.

...

As they came upon the corridor with the griffin statue, Dante paused.

"Thank you, Percival. I can make my own way from here," she told him, even as she moved to the window to glance down at the courtyard below. The moonlight was casting everything in a pale blue glow, giving the place a magical, yet mysterious feel.

"If you are sure?" he asked. When she nodded, he bowed and kissed the back of her hand lightly. "Take care of yourself, Vixen."

It always sent a slight chill down her spine when anyone called her that - though it only ever seemed to be Gwaine or Percival these days. Everyone else had backed off slightly, becoming more formal towards her since she'd brought Morgana back to the Citadel. She couldn't blame them, really. She'd have done the same, if she'd been in their position.

"Likewise, Percy. Go on, go enjoy yourself," she told him eventually, forcing a smile.

After he was gone, however, she did not venture back to her quarters as she'd told him that she would. Instead, she carried on through several more twists and turns, before finally stopping outside one of the guest quarters and rapping on the door.

"Enter!" Morgana called out and Dante stepped through into the dark of the room beyond, feeling with some dread, like she was walking into the dragon's den.

"Milady?" she called out into the darkness, squinting as she tried to adjust her eyes to the lack of light.

A flame suddenly flared into existence in the hearth, and as the fire quickly took hold of the logs and the kindling, Morgana was illuminated in the seat directly in front of the fireplace.

"Is this what I have been reduced to doing, these days?" the witch commented, as Dante edged forwards, unnerved. Morgana's eyes still had not adjusted completely to light of the world, after the three year darkness she'd been kept in, and these days she preferred to stay in darkness whenever possible, to save her eyes from the pain that the light caused her.

"Milady?" Dante asked uncertainly, stopping beside the chair, sensing that something was wrong.

"Once upon a time, you used to come to me at the snap of my fingers. These days, I am reduced to a cripple who can barely move from her throne, whilst you call upon me when you deem it acceptable. And not even an ounce of respect when you do?"

Too late, Dante realised her mistake and began to drop to her knees, but Morgana held out a slender hand to stop her.

"Don't bother. You're here now, I suppose, and that's all that matters. Which means you'll be wanting to know what happens next?"

"Next?" Dante echoed, confused, as she moved to take a seat to Morgana's right.

"Has Arthur replaced my loyal cousin with a parrot?!" Morgana snapped suddenly, causing Dante to flinch in her seat. "Yes, next! What the next step of my plan is!"

"I...I was unaware that you were even planning anything," Dante admitted.

"Clearly you've forgotten who you're dealing with then, you foolish girl," Morgana spat. "I do not forget, however. I do not forget the injustices done to me. And I do not forget who abandoned me and who remained loyal, during my time of need."

Dante opened her mouth to speak, but Morgana spoke over her. "Don't trouble yourself, cousin. I know you remain loyal. After all, it was you who recruited Mordred to our cause. And it was you who found me in Northumbria. I do not doubt you. But I DO doubt your spilt from the knight, Gwaine. I find myself asking why you would give him up so easily, after fighting all that time for him. And if you can give HIM up so easily, what is to say you will not turn on me in the same way?"

"Never," Dante said at once. "I will NEVER betray you, Morgana. You have my most solemn vow."

"We shall see," Morgana replied, studying her for a moment. Then she turned to the door as there came another quick rap. Dante froze, ready to bolt - after all, she wasn't even supposed to be here. She'd been banned from seeing Morgana, just like everyone else had.

"Relax," Morgana sighed as Mordred walked in, accompanied by the Princess Eira. "They're with us."

"You?" Dante exclaimed without thinking, standing to glare at Eira.

"Me," she agreed with a nod, her tone no longer sickly sweet. That had apparently just been a show for the knights, lulling them into thinking that she was just a naive, innocent Princess.

"I see you're not as drunk as you appeared downstairs," the princess observed and Dante scowled.

"It appears I'm not the only actress in the room, either." She glared at Eira, then affected a sickly sweet tone herself, mocking Eira's earlier words to Gwaine, down in the hall. "_Is that your former fiancée, Sir Knight?_" Then she shuddered. "Eugh, makes my skin crawl, hearing such creeptastic voices like that."

"Perhaps it revolts you, but the men find it perfectly charming," Eira snapped. "And right now, they are the only ones who matter. I could not care less about you and your feelings."

"So, now that everyone's all aquainted," Mordred grinned as he locked the door to ensure they were not disturbed.

"What are you doing here?!" Dante glared at the Princess, but it was Mordred who answered for her.

"Eira is an old and very faithful friend of mine. I was the one to ask her here, and she in turn convinced her father to bring her so that he could 'marry her off' to someone. She has agreed to help us, and that is all you need to know. So, can we please get back to discussing how we are going to get Morgana her throne back, now, if it's all the same with the rest of you?"

"Indeed," Morgana nodded. "Time is not on our side and we should - " She paused, noticing that Eira and Dante were still glaring defiantly at one another. "Ladies! Am I interrupting something? Put your claws away and sit down!"

They both did as they were told, moving to sit round the large oak table in the very centre of the room. Mordred held out the seat for Morgana, who managed to hobble her way over and sit at the head of the table with a loud groan of pain. Then she glanced to the three sitting at the table - Mordred and Eira on one side, Dante on the other.

_Is this an omen of things to come? _She couldn't help but think. _Will Dante continually be at odds with the other two? And will it become a problem? _She couldn't allow anything to happen now - not when she was once again so close to claiming what was rightfully hers.

"As you know, it has been decided that a High King is needed. One king to rule all," she started to explain as all around the room, more candles slowly began to flicker into existence thanks - she assumed - to Mordred.

"Dante, you are on the council, so I assume you know how it will be decided. Care to enlighten the rest of us?"

_Not really, _Dante thought, but instead she said, "The Kings are currently at odds. They all believe they have as much claim to the throne as the next king, and are undecided about who should be given such responsibility. Ten kings and two Queens put their names forward, to begin with, but through a series of private audiences, bargains and more than a little blackmail, some have backed out and promised their support to others. This now just leaves Arthur, Godfrey and Lot in the running for High King."

"Heavily supported by the various kingdoms, no doubt," Mordred added, and Dante nodded in agreement.

"Lot is willing to go to war over it, if needs be, whilst Arthur has suggested a tourney to decide the winner instead, and Godfrey wishes for it to go to a vote. Right now, the council is undecided about which approach to take to resolve the issue. It seems the other monarchs are equally divided between Lot and Arthur."

"But not Godfrey?" Eira asked. Dante glared at her with undisguised mistrust, but eventually replied.

"No. I have no doubt he'll soon drop out of the running completely and choose to side with one of the others, instead. Though which one, I cannot say."

"Then we have two options open to us," Morgana said thoughtfully, as she looked between her three allies, whilst Mordred finally got round to pouring the bottle of wine that had been sat in the middle of the table the entire time. He passed a cup to each of them.

Morgana waited a moment to make sure she had their undivided attention, before she said, "Two options, though which to pursue? No matter what happens, however, I am to marry Lot. That has already been arranged between he and myself."

Dante spat her mouthful of wine all over poor Eira in her surprise, whilst Mordred choked on his own drink - though whether this was a reaction to Dante's surprise, or to the news itself, Morgana could not tell. Eira shrieked as the wine soaked through her dress, and now Dante had started to cough as well, slamming her cup back on the table as she choked.

Morgana merely sat back and watched them all, an amused smirk on her face. This reaction had been ten times better than she'd hoped for. It had also provided some much needed entertainment.

"When you've all quite finished," she said eventually. Mordred composed himself quickly, followed by Dante. Eira continued to fuss over her dress until Morgana rolled her eyes and muttered a spell.

The wine vanished, and after overcoming the shock, Eira settled and rejoined everyone at the table - though Morgana noticed that she was now sitting closer towards Mordred - and not directly opposite Dante, any longer.

_She learns quickly,_ Morgana noted. _That's a good sign._

"I'm sorry, Milady," Dante was the first to speak once more. "I, ah, I thought I heard you say that you're going to marry Lot."

"I am," Morgana nodded seriously. "He and I have come to an arrangement. With Essetir's strength, should all else fail, Lot has enough men to storm Camelot and once again take it by force."

"But with all due respect," Mordred started. "You've tried that twice already. And failed both times."

"Because I had incompetent fools by my side," Morgana retorted, glaring steadily at each of them. "I pray this time will be different."

As her eyes rested upon her cousin, Morgana saw Dante take a deep breath and sit a little straighter. _She has more to say? _

"You said 'should all else fail'?"

"I did," Morgana nodded, relieved. She'd hoped that of the three of them, Dante would at least provide the brains of the operation. Mordred could be the muscle and Eira the distraction - or the leverage, depending on her willingness to take part - but Dante was the most vital of the three. She was closer to Arthur than any of them. One wrong word, and she could destroy it all. So far, however, she was doing just as Morgana had hoped, and was using her intelligence - not making it difficult, as she could have done.

"So you have another plan, then?"

"Two, actually," Morgana nodded. "Plan A. I convince Arthur that I can help him become High King. I convince Lot to give up his claim, leaving Godfrey as Arthur's only challenger. Arthur will win, hands down. In payment for my help, I shall request that Arthur recognize me as his official heir, until Gwen can provide him with a child of his own. Then, when I have been officially named as his heir, we kill him and his little wife, and the throne of Albion, along with the individual thrones of both Camelot AND Essetir will all be mine. Of course, I'm not greedy. I'm willing to share. Camelot will go to you 'King' Mordred, whilst 'Queen' Dante, you may have Essetir. Eira, you already stand to inherit Cornwall anyway. So you would each have your own Kingdom, and I would rule over you all."

The way she said it, it sounded so simple. But of course, things like this never were. Of course there'd be flaws, and trust Dante to find them.

"What if Arthur DOESN'T accept your help? And what if he DOESN'T name you as his heir?"

"I will not help him to claim the throne until he DOES name me as his heir, so if he refuses, I shall simply move on to plan b."

"Which is?"

"I help Lot to become High King, instead. With me as his Queen, I skip out the middle man and immediately become High Queen of Albion."

"Why isn't this plan a, then?"

"Because I don't trust Lot," Morgana said simply. Dante thought about it for a long moment, then nodded her agreement to that. She didn't trust him either. And after his stunt in Ealdor, Morgana would be surprised if she ever trusted him again.

"So how about it? Does my offer appeal to you all?"

"Absolutely," Eira and Mordred spoke up at once, but Dante remained predictably quiet. And Morgana would have been disappointed, if she hadn't. She was clearly thinking everything through in her mind, weighing the pros against the cons. Every other servant and follower Morgana had ever known would have done exactly as Mordred and Eira had just done, and agreed instantaneously, without even thinking about what they were letting themselves in for. Perhaps that's where she'd gone wrong, all these years? Trusting blind fools like them, instead of someone who actually used the intelligence she'd been born with.

She'd never had anyone to challenge her, as Dante was doing now. Dante challenged Morgana just as much as Morgana herself had often challenged Uther. But was that truly a good thing, considering how things had ended between her and her father?

"Dante?" she asked at last, when Dante had not answered. Dante looked to her, still pensive and thoughtful.

"Might I have time to think on it?" She asked at last, carefully choosing her answer.

"What is so hard to think on?" Eira frowned. "You're being offered your own kingdom. You would be named QUEEN! Think of the power you would hold!"

"And therein lies the problem," Mordred realised as he studied Dante's expression. "She doesn't WANT the power!"

"So what if I don't?" Dante challenged then. "What if not all of us are power hungry tyrants like you?!"

"Ouch," he grinned. "You wound me, Milady."

"Think on it," Morgana encouraged with a gentle smile, reaching across to take Dante's hand in her own and give it a light squeeze. Then she turned her grip into a vice, digging her nails into Dante's palm. "Give me your answer on the morrow. And know this. If you refuse my offer, then I shall quite easily replace you with someone who IS willing to take it up. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Dante replied through gritted teeth, refusing to give her pain a voice, even as Morgana's nails began to draw blood.

"Now get out of my sight, before I grow angry."

She forcefully let Dante's hand go, and the First Lady quickly pulled her fist tight to her chest, clenching her teeth to stop from crying out as the blood began to drip freely onto the table top. Then she rose.

"Long live the Queen," she growled, before turning on her heel and storming from the room.

"Long live the Queen," Mordred and Eira echoed as they also stood and bowed to Morgana, before showing themselves out as well.

"Yes, but which Queen?" Morgana couldn't help but wonder as she sat back in the chair, in a dark and sullen mood all of a sudden.


	13. An Unexpected Mission

**Author Note: I want a dragon! Lol, just thought you'd like to know that :p...and hands up who feels so sorry for Aithusa and Morgana after part 2 of Arthur's Bane? (If you've been lucky enough to see it, that is). If not, I won't spoil it, again, but let me just say it's changed my views on the baby dragon, lol...I may just have to include her a little more (and yes, I call her and girl, because that is what Morgana now refers to her as, and she does look far more feminine than Kilgharra, lol...therefore to me, she is a girl).**

**Anyways, in the meantime, Dante has a special assignment to take on, that takes her from Camelot for a while. And what better chance for her to try and make amends with Merlin, than with a little trip to the woods?**

**Enjoy and review, as always :)**

**...**

The next morning when Dante awoke, her palm screamed in pain and she gasped, glancing down to see the neat puncture marks left by her cousin the night before. A not so subtle reminder of the 'deal' she had offered.

"She can go to hell if she thinks she can scare me into submission," Dante grumbled into the chill morning, her breath appearing before her in a little cloud. Winter was definitely on its way once again. Burying back under the covers, Dante wished she had another blanket. It was still dark outside, after all - not yet dawn, but it was damned freezing, too. Still, she could catch another few hours of sleep before she had to be up, and perhaps the morning would be warmer than it currently was.

Or at least she hoped.

Just as she closed her eyes, however, there was a loud rap at the door.

"Milady!" Someone called out to her. "Milady!"

"Go away!" She grumbled into her pillow, but the pounding continued until she could ignore it no longer.

Letting out a loud groan, she dragged herself from the bed, grabbed a thick dark cloak from the end of her bed and pulled it tightly round herself as she started for the door, out in the main chambers of her quarters.

"What is it?" she snapped at the guard when she pulled open the door.

"Begging the intrusion, Milady, but the King requires your presence in the council chambers," the guard stammered.

"Tell the King I do not appreciate being woken before sunrise," Dante growled, before slamming the door in the guard's face.

As she turned to head back for her bed, however, the door rapped again. "Milady, this is urgent! He said you must come immediately!"

Dante froze on the spot, took a long, deep breath, counted to ten, then turned and reopened the door once more. The guard visibly flinched.

"Then tell the King, I shall be with him as soon as I am dressed," she said, forcing her tone to remain calm.

"Very well, Milady," the guard nodded, bowing to her. Then he turned and marched off down the corridor, though Dante could tell it was taking all his discipline and training not to run.

"Bloody King," she grumbled, kicking the door closed and heading back to her chambers. She really had no intention of dressing up for the occasion, so she threw on the first dress she came across in her armoire - a very plain white gown, with no decoration what-so-ever. It was designed to be worn beneath an intricate cloak, so as not to detract from the beauty of the cloak, but Dante simply threw on her dark navy cloak trimmed with thick fur instead, tugged on her boots and ran a brush through her hair.

This took all of ten minutes. Then she took a pair of dark leather riding gloves and slid them on to hide her marred palm. Mind you, she was awake now anyway, so she may as well go for a ride after this meeting. Perhaps the crisp, fresh morning air would shift this headache?

Still unable to think what could be so important that Arthur would drag her out of bed at this unsociable hour, she threw up the hood of the cloak to prevent the cold chill of the morning from creeping down the back of her neck. Then she swept from the room, heading for the council chambers and what she hoped would be a VERY good excuse for the rude awakening.

...

Arthur sat at the head of the table with his head in his hands, groaning every now and then, a thick fur cloak draped over his shoulders.

Gwen, who was sitting to his left, glanced at him every time he did, then smiled and went back to her journal, where she was scribbling the events of the night before, in as much detail as she could remember - including the drinking contest Gwaine and Arthur had had (explaining his current hangover), the arm wrestle that Sir Percival had been banned from (considering he had a bad habit of breaking his opponent's arms), and the juggling act that Tristan had put on rather spontaneously when Leon had thrown an apple at him, followed by a pear, and then a lemon (for reasons that not even Gwen knew).

As the door to the chambers opened and Dante walked in, however, the Queen set down her quill and laid a hand on Arthur's arm. Arthur looked up, groaned, then buried his head back in his hands again.

"What's up with him?" Dante asked, sitting herself in the chair opposite Gwen, on Arthur's right.

"Ever had a drinking contest with Gwaine?" Arthur groaned, and Dante grinned wryly, suddenly understanding.

"Only once. I ended up in bed with alcohol poisoning and a killer hangover for a week after. My father was not amused."

"Neither is Gwen, I fear."

"On the contrary," Gwen laughed. "I think it's very entertaining, watching you suffer like this, knowing that it was self inflicted."

"Charming," Arthur grumbled. Then he glanced at Dante. "Going riding?"

"Well, I'm hardly going to be able to go back to sleep after this, so I might as well," Dante shrugged.

"Sorry for the rude awakening," Gwen spoke up then, closing her journal finally and laying it to one side with her quill. "But we have an important job for you."

Merlin walked in at that moment, bearing a tray with three cups and a jug of warm spiced mead. Arthur refused, turning a delicate shade of pale, but Gwen accepted a cup, as did Dante.

"And this job is?" She asked at last, trying not to laugh at the king in his sorry state.

"The Saxon Wars are not officially over yet. Cor, son of Cordin has yet to officially yield to us, so until he does, you are still our Royal Scout."

"And you need me to go scouting again?" Dante asked, catching on quickly.

"We do," Gwen nodded, deciding to take charge of the meeting. She leaned over and placed a hand on Arthur's arm again. "Go back to bed, my love. I'll handle things today."

"But, what about - " Arthur started to protest, but Gwen made a shushing noise.

"No buts. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're indisposed. Even Kings are allowed to get ill from time to time. Yours is self inflicted, mind you, but people don't need to know that."

Before Arthur could protest any further, Gwen looked to Merlin. "If you would, Merlin?"

"My pleasure," he grinned, stepping forward and grabbing Arthur under one arm. "Come on, Your Royal Grouchiness. Bed."

"I'm going to kill you, Merlin. Right after I kill Gwaine," Arthur groaned, but allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and dragged out of the room anyway.

"Looks like someone had fun," Dante commented, glad that she wasn't the only one who wasn't liking this whole early morning situation.

When Arthur had gone, however, Gwen turned back to Dante, folding her hands on the table in a very regal manner, which made Dante feel guilty for slouching in her seat. She straightened up a little, though her own hands remained on the arms of the chair.

"So, this task?" She prompted at last.

"Is very delicate," Gwen admitted quietly. "Hence the early hour. We wanted to inform you in private, before the rest of the castle wakes and there's a chance we'd be overheard."

"Has something happened?" Dante asked anxiously, not liking the sound of this, one bit.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. King Nantes came to us at the party last night and told us something in confidence, which I am going to share with you now, on the condition that it does not leave this room."

"Then my lips are sealed," Dante said solemnly.

"Nantes has a daughter, whom he brought here to keep an eye on her, it turns out," Gwen explained after a moment to make sure she had Dante's undivided attention. "Her name is Elena, and she is heavy with child. Bearing this in mind, she cannot have gone far, as her child is due any day now. However, she has not been seen since the eve before last. Nantes assumed she was merely bed ridden, but when he went to check upon her, she was not there. He fears that something may have happened to her and his grandchild, and he wants us to investigate."

"And you're asking me to look into it?" Dante assumed. "Why not just get the guards to search the place?"

"Because Nantes is a known supporter of Lot and his quest to become High King. Yet he promised us last night that if we help him to find his daughter, he will switch sides and support Arthur instead. We need all the support we can get right now - and even if he hadn't offered that as incentive, she's an innocent girl. She and her child need to be found, especially seeing as a snow storm is lingering on the horizon, I fear. And it would be better if the news of her disappearance was...well, not exactly public knowledge. Who knows what might happen if people learn that a King's daughter went missing in Camelot?"

"It would not bode well for the union of the kingdoms," Dante agreed. "Alright, I understand why it must be kept quiet, then...but why are you asking me to find her? Why not one of the knights?"

"Because the chances are, the girl is alone and frightened. She may respond better to you - as a fellow woman - than she would to some strange knight who she's never met before."

"But she's never met me before, either," Dante frowned. She was pretty sure she'd remember being introduced to a heavily pregnant princess, after all.

"No, but imagine you were in her shoes. Would you be more comfortable trusting a woman you'd never met, or a man?"

"Touché," Dante agreed eventually. "Alright, I'll start the search right away. But, if I may make a request?"

"Of course," Gwen nodded, as Dante rose from the table.

"Well, I feel bad for taking Mordred with me all the time," Dante explained, doing her best to make it sound like she actually meant what she was saying. "He's training to be a knight, yet I keep dragging him away from his studies." _Plus I don't trust him, _she almost said, but held back that sentence just in time and continued. "So perhaps this time I could...take someone else, instead?"

"Someone like who?" Gwen asked as she also stood, collecting her journal and other items from the table.

"I don't know," Dante shrugged honestly. "Another knight perhaps?"

"I'm afraid they all have their duties," Gwen sighed. "Though I agree with you that perhaps someone else should accompany you this time, instead of Mordred. How about Merlin, perhaps?"

"Can Arthur spare him?" Dante grinned, remembering the King's hangover.

"Arthur's not going anywhere today," Gwen grinned, as well. "Looks like Merlin's duties have been put on hold for the day. I know he's not exactly a knight in shining armour, but...well I know Merlin. He's quite capable of looking after himself."

"He is indeed," Dante agreed. "But will he agree to help me?"

"Why shouldn't he?" Gwen frowned.

_Because he hates me? He knows I'm a traitor? He's too hell-bent on protecting Arthur to consort with the likes of me?_

"No reason," she shrugged, biting back all those thoughts.

...

An hour later, Dante was waiting in the courtyard of the Palace with two horses, wrapped up against the bitter wind that had picked up. After the meeting with Gwen, she'd gone back to her room and changed into more suitable attire - namely a thick woollen shirt, two pairs of breaches and her thick fur lined cloak. The leather gloves were warm, but she'd swapped them for fur lined gloves anyway, just to be doubly sure. After all, she had no idea how long she'd be out of the Citadel today, and really didn't want to risk catching flu again.

The horses were growing impatient - as was Dante - when Merlin finally came running down the steps, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry! Sorry!" he called out when he saw her waiting impatiently. "Arthur gave me a whole list of things to do before he would allow me to leave!"

Dante rolled her eyes. "Does he not understand the importance of this mission?"

"I don't think he's thinking of anything except his sore head at the moment," Merlin grinned wryly as they both swung up into the saddles of their respective horses.

Dante glanced at him for a long moment. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

"Me?" Merlin asked in surprise, glancing down at his attire. "Course I will. Don't worry about me. I know a few _tricks_ to keep warm."

"Ah," Dante nodded, catching on. "Of course you do."

"So where are we heading first?"

"Just follow me," Dante said cryptically as she spun Vixen and nudged her. The mare started forward at a gentle trot and Merlin quickly caught up. "I'll tell you more when we're away from here."

Another nudge with their heels had the horses cantering across the cobbles, Merlin wondering where on earth they were going, and Dante wondering what they would find when they got there.


	14. Dante and the Dragon

**Author Note: Sorry for the delay in posting, had a few personal and family matters to deal with. It's still not resolved, so if future posts are also delayed, I apologise sincerely in advance. Anyways, here you go. The next chapter.**

**Enjoy, read and review as always :)**

**...**

As they reached the edge of the swamps, Merlin reigned up and glanced at Dante, who was studying their surroundings, as though looking for something. He was surprised that she would trouble herself with something that could potentially turn out to be a wild goose chase, considering they only had a servant's word that the Princess had even come this way in the first place.

But if they were on the right track, he realised, what was to say that there wouldn't be some terrible danger lurking unseen in the gloom up ahead – as Merlin actually suspected was the more likely case. He had a bad feeling about this place, after all.

Dante trotted Vixen back and forth in front of the swamp for a moment, clearly looking for the safest route through, and Merlin eyed her suspiciously.

"This could be dangerous, you know?" he warned her, starting a conversation between them for the first time since they'd left the forest that surrounded the Citadel. She nodded.

"I'm no stranger to deadly situations, Merlin." She indicated the scar on her chest, and he couldn't help but agree. "I seem to be a magnet for them, in fact."

"Know that feeling," Merlin found himself grinning, despite the situation.

"So, what do you reckon we should be looking for?" Dante asked as they both dismounted, tied their horses to a nearby tree and started off on foot into the thickness of the swamp and the towering canopy of the forest overhead.

"Not sure exactly," Merlin replied, picking his way across the boggy ground. "Footprints, maybe? Some sign that she even came this way?"

The two of them walked on in silence for a while, following a beaten path that appeared to be one of the main routes in and out of the swamps, judging by the footprints. Merlin muttered a spell and a ball of flame lit up in his outstretched palm, lighting up the path before them.

Dante glanced sideways and grinned.

"So...magic ...?"

"What about it?" Merlin asked cautiously.

"Well, Arthur hates it..._hated_ it. But some people believe if used for the right reasons, it can be a force for good. Where do you stand on the subject? And don't be biased."

"How can I not be biased?" he asked. Then he sighed. "I've seen the benefits and the dangers of magic, and I can understand both sides of the argument. So I guess I'm not really sure what to believe," he explained, picking his way carefully through a particularly boggy patch. Dante followed behind, treading in the young manservant's footsteps.

"Oh come on, everyone's got an opinion," she pressed.

"Well alright then, where do YOU stand, Milady?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She shrugged. "My mother was a druid, magic saved my life, and I'm surrounded by it on a daily basis. I'm hardly going to hate it, am I."

"So you believe it should be allowed back?"

"I believe," she started very carefully, "that magic is no more dangerous or deadly than a sword, or a bow, or a spear. It is not the weapon itself that is deadly, but rather the way it is used. The same applies to magic. In the right hands, it can be a force for good."

Merlin found himself beaming like an idiot, at this. "I'm surprised anyone else thinks the same as me! Most people you ask are either too afraid to talk about it, or they stand firmly against it because of the laws. It's refreshing to hear honesty, for a change."

Dante shrugged. "I'm always honest, Merlin...Well...most of the time. I just say what I think."

Merlin grinned, but was cut off from all further conversation as they came to a particularly perilous patch of ground, and all their concentration had to be spent navigating it. Even when they'd reached the other side, their conversation did not immediately resume. Not until the silence became too uncomfortable, anyway.

"May I ask you something?" he asked eventually, after a few more minutes of silent trekking through the swamps, the flame bobbing gently in his hands.

"Of course," Dante nodded politely.

"Why have you kept my secret?"

"Why have I kept it?" Dante asked, confused by the question.

"Well you work for Morgana AND Arthur. Why haven't you told one of them, yet?" Merlin tried to keep his tone casual.

Dante considered this for a very long time, and Merlin doubted he'd even get an answer. But finally she shrugged. "If I said it was because you're blackmailing me by threatening to reveal my own secret...well, that would be a lie. And to be honest, Merlin...I really don't know why I've kept it," she shrugged. "I guess if I had to give you an answer...you've never really given me reason not to. And even if you did...I don't think I'd even want to. I know we're not exactly friends, Merlin...but I'd like to think that someday we could be."

Merlin nodded, but could find no more words then. Still, he felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Something was telling him that he could trust Dante with his secret, because after all, she'd had plenty of chances to spill it by now, but had chosen not to.

He was glad she knew now. And he was glad she'd handled it in pretty much the same way Lancelot had, with a cool, calm understanding. Kilgharra may have been certain that Dante could not be trusted, but Merlin was feeling the exact opposite, right about then. The pair had come to an understanding finally, and he could feel their friendship beginning to reform itself before his very eyes, because of that.

She now accepted his magic and saw it as a gift that should not be used carelessly.

And he accepted that she was a traitor, because he understood her reasons. She had never physically harmed anyone, or willingly put anyone in danger. All she was really guilty of was feeding information back to Morgana - information that she'd have gained one way or another, anyway. And at least now, by knowing who Morgana's informant was, he was able to control just what exactly Morgana was being told.

Before he could say any more on the matter, they both paused, having finally found what they were looking for.

Amongst the imprints of heavy boots that lined the trodden path, there was a set of smaller footprints – human shaped and bare, the toe prints obvious in the wet mud.

He crouched down to examine it, and Dante crouched beside him. After studying the footprint for a few moments, they agreed that they should quicken their pace, and started off again, until they came to the edge of a lake, where thick reeds and grasses sprouted, reaching to almost waist height. A huge tree with bowed branches and thick foliage dipped over the water, but the branches were parted by its trunk, just enough to form a small cavern, of sorts.

As Dante followed Merlin's suggestion to search the area around the tree, Merlin let the fire in his palm dwindle and extinguish, then dropped onto hands and knees and very carefully crawled under the spreading cavern of the branches.

A powerful smell hit him immediately and almost drove him back into the open air. He knew that smell.

Blood.

And death.

The darkness of the makeshift cavern was almost impenetrable, but as Merlin held out a hand and muttered a spell to summon the small flame back into his palm once more, casting the area in its eerie orange, he could finally make out a huddled figure leaning against the trunk of the ancient tree.

The body before him was of a young and very fair girl. Even laced with rivulets of crimson blood, her hair was a brilliant golden blonde. Her face was pale and free of blemish, except for the wide, staring eyes that were an intense blue. They were filmed over with agony and horror. And with good reason.

The ground beneath her was soaked with blood.

At first, Merlin could not see the cause of death, but a slight adjustment to the way he was holding the flame cast the light in a different way, and finally he saw that the girl's crimson dress was not in fact crimson at all, but white. The crimson had come from the copious amounts of blood from the opening beneath the girl's jaw line.

Her throat had been slit.

Sitting back on his haunches, one hand over his mouth, fighting his gag reflex, Merlin felt numb with shock. He'd seen some terrible things already in his short life, but this was by far the most barbaric. And to make matters worse, the blood was still wet. The girl had bled to death – and recently.

Sickened by the thought that had they arrived just minutes earlier, the girl might have been sparred such a horrific death, Merlin reached forward to close the dead girl's eyes with his thumb and forefinger, muttering a sincere and regretful apology for being too late. But before he could close her eyes, he paused, noticing her palms. They were cut to the bone and a bundle of rags lay nearby, also stained with blood. She'd apparently been trying to protect whatever had been in her bundle and had fought for it, even as her own life-force ebbed away. A sudden thought had the warlock_ literally_ recoiling in horror this time.

The woman's belly was distended and round with pregnancy. What if the bundle she'd been so desperately trying to protect had been a newborn child?

"MERLIN!" Dante screamed from a short distance away, outside the cavern of the huge tree. Without wasting a second, Merlin hacked away at the branches with his arms until, seconds later, he was free of the deathly hollow once more. Breathing in one quick breath of the fresher air, he cast about furiously for Dante, afraid that the monster that did this had come back and caught the Lady in his deadly clutches.

But Dante was alone, crouched by the banks of the lake, reaching for something in the reeds. Extinguishing the flame in his palm quickly, Merlin hurried over to her.

As she sat back again, cradling something gently in her arms, Merlin saw, with great horror, that it was a naked baby – blue with cold, but still alive...just. He blinked in amazement, glancing at the reeds where the child had been found. They must have offered some warmth and shelter sufficient enough to keep a baby as strong as this one appeared to be, alive for a brief time. She was beautiful, and could only have been a few hours old, at most, marred only by a bruise around her right arm where what appeared to be a man's hand (for it was larger than any woman's hand could ever have been) had grasped her firmly and tossed her among the reeds, obviously aiming to drown the poor thing.

Feeling the rage boiling inside him, Merlin had to desperately fight back his anger at such a terrible act of malevolence.

"She's barely alive," Dante said, her voice cracking and tears welling in her eyes as she brought the baby over to him. Merlin took the little girl from her arms as Dante removed her dark fur cloak, sacrificing herself to the cold so that they could wrap the child in it instead. But even as Merlin held the child inside his jacket, pressed against his heart whilst he waited, he could feel her life force weakening.

"Her mother is under the tree," he said. His voice was calm, but to anyone who knew Merlin now, they would know that he was anything but calm. He was seething with anger. "She was murdered, trying to protect the child."

Dante gasped in horror, even as she took the child back and wrapped her tightly in her thick cloak. "Who would do such a thing?"

"A monster," Merlin replied without hesitation. And then he was moving, gathering sticks to make a fire so that the baby could be warmed whilst he thought about what to do next. As Dante sat cradling the infant beside the fire, Merlin summoned his courage, fought back the gorge in his throat and ventured back into the cavern of the tree. Reverently, and with silent apologies to the woman, he scooped her body up and carried her out, laying her carefully beside the fire and finally closing her eyes, sending her into the realm of eternal sleep. Removing her cloak, he wrapped her body in it and bound it with his belt. Then he moved back to Dante's side.

"How is she?"

The child had been crying weakly, as her cheeks were wet with tears, but Dante had finally managed to comfort her, cradling her close. Now the child dozed peacefully in her arms.

"She needs help. And fast, if she is to survive," the Lady said quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping child. Merlin saw, in the crackling light of the fire, that Dante's cheeks were also wet with tears, and if he didn't have his duty to the dead mother to fulfil, Merlin would have dropped down onto his knees and wept then, too. As it was, he had to be the strong one, here.

"We need to get her to Gaius as soon as we can. But it's too far for us to go by foot, and we have no horses..."

He was clearly at a loss for what to do, apparently not used to having to make such tough decisions by himself. He was young, after all, and had no experience with situations where he'd been in charge. He'd always had Gaius, or Arthur, or someone else there to make the decisions for him.

Dante, however, had been in this exact kind of situation virtually every day of her life since before she could remember, and knew exactly what needed to be done. She quickly made up her mind to take control of the situation and the responsibilities that came with it and looked up at the warlock who was still pacing in front of the fire. "You have magic, Merlin. So use it."

Merlin gasped and rounded on her. "What if someone sees?"

"You want to prove why magic should be allowed back to this realm? Use it to do something good, right now. Leave me here, get this child back to Gaius and save her life."

"No," Merlin said firmly, stopping to look Dante directly in the eye. And in that one simple word, Dante saw quite clearly the kind of leader that Merlin could someday become, if he ever put his mind to it – someone who commanded respect and loyalty, whether he meant to, or not.

"Absolutely not. It's far too dangerous. What if the monster comes back and catches you here alone, unarmed? You've said yourself that you're a magnet for trouble."

"And you said yourself that there is no other way for us to get back. I'd never make it to the Citadel in half the time that you could. I was not born with your gifts," Dante argued back stubbornly.

Merlin let out a frustrated groan and began pacing back and forth again for a few moments, reminding Dante strongly of a caged animal. And then, finally, the young warlock appeared to come to a decision that he clearly disapproved of, but could see no other alternative to.

"You promise me you will never breath a word of this to anyone?"

Dante stood.

"I've kept your secret so far, Merlin. What cause have I given you to doubt me now? Still, if it puts your mind at ease, I swear on my life, I will not utter a word of this to anyone. Cross my heart." And she drew a cross over her heart with one finger, to prove her point.

"Then I may just have a way to get us all out of here together."

Dante was glad that Merlin had decided to back down and not argue his case any further. He'd only have been wasting valuable time if he had, anyway, because Dante would not have given in. And somehow she got the feeling that Merlin was secretly glad that someone else was making the decisions that he couldn't.

He bent down and reverently scooped the dead mother into his arms. Then he motioned for Dante. "Come with me."

And he started away from the warmth of the fire, walking back through the thick swamp, unable to go any faster because of the murky waters and instability of the marshy grasses that made up the vast majority of the swamp. Even the beaten track that they had followed was thick and slow under foot.

Dante kicked dirt over the fire to extinguish it, took one last looked at the grisly scene they had stumbled across, then followed with the child cradled gently in her arms, buried within the folds of the thick fur lining. Dante was shivering from the cold now, but knew that she would survive. The child, exposed to such terrible weather, would not. So she endured, for the baby's sake.

...

Twenty minutes later, Merlin emerged from the cover of the trees back out into a small grassy area, where he skidded to a halt, Dante close on his heels.

"We're miles from the horses," Dante realised as she looked about. "We've come out on the wrong side of the marsh."

"I know," Merlin nodded. "But I have a friend. He will help us."

He glanced back at her warily, before deciding that it was now or never. He'd find out once and for all if the Lady Dante could be trusted. "Watch this."

And then he threw his head back to look up at the stars above, and called out in the language of the dragons.

Dante also looked up to the grey sky above - the sky that threatened snow at any moment. She had no idea what she was looking for, and the language Merlin had shouted in was strange and foreign to her. What was she supposed to be watching?

And then, all of a sudden it was there, swooping down out of the darkness. Larger and more fearsome than anything she had ever imagined, it came at her.

And Dante suddenly knew what it felt like to be a mouse, fixed in a hawks sights and a ripe target for its talons.

...

Merlin watched Dante with keen interest as the Great Dragon flew down from the skies above. It looked like she was seriously fighting the urge to turn and run. But even if she did flee, she would have had to run backwards - she simply couldn't tear her eyes off the beast. The sight of him clearly filled her with a fear unlike anything she had ever known before.

"Good morning, Young Warlock," the dragon greeted with a bow of his head. Then he turned to study Dante, who remained frozen to the spot in equal parts awe and fear. "Ah, Lady Dante. A pleasure to finally meet you."

For a moment, Dante was speechless. Then she cleared her throat, remembering her manners. "Erm...a...a pleasure to meet you too...sir."

"Sir?" The dragon laughed. "Are you sure this is the same Lady Dante, Emrys?"

"Dragon shock," Merlin grinned with a shrug. And then the baby snuffled and began to cry in Dante's arms again, and Merlin remembered why they were there. "We need your help. This child won't survive for much longer. We need to get her back to the Citadel."

"An unfortunate thing indeed," the dragon nodded sadly. "For a child to grow up without a mother." He was looking directly at Dante, as he said that, and she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. How could he have known that she had grown up without her own mother? Had Merlin told him? Or did he not know? Was he simply referring to the child in her arms?

"Will you help us?" Merlin asked, directing both Dante's and the dragon's attention back to him once more.

"I have told you before, Young Warlock. I will not help traitors such as her."

"Hey!" Dante snapped suddenly, forgetting her fear momentarily. Until Kilgharra turned his gaze back upon her again and she shrank away, causing the baby to begin crying again.

"Until the Lady Dante resolves to change her ways, I will not help her," the dragon decided then. "I will, however, take the mother, the child and yourself back in swift time. But the Lady Dante is on her own."

"No way!" Merlin exclaimed. "Absolutely not. I'm not leaving her out here alone and undefended!"

"Then the child will die," the dragon said simply, with a shrug of his huge shoulders. Dante swallowed back her fear and stepped forward then, up to Merlin's shoulder.

"Go with him. I'll be fine, honestly. I get the feeling he doesn't like me too much, and I'd really rather not provoke him. If he says I can't come, then I won't come."

"But - " Merlin started.

"No, Merlin. Someone needs to collect the horses anyway. And you said so yourself, the child won't survive much longer."

"But the cold..." Merlin protested feebly.

"I'll live," Dante assured him. "The child will not. Do as he says, Merlin."

Merlin let out a frustrated growl, but could see that he had no other choice. He laid the body of the mother at the dragon's feet, then took the baby in the fur cloak and as the dragon dipped its elegant neck, he climbed onto its back.

"I'll come back for you," he promised as Dante stepped back and the dragon took off, soaring into the sky with Merlin and the baby on his back, and the mother clutched carefully in his claws.

Dante watched them go, then let out a breath she never even knew she'd been holding. She'd just come face to face with a dragon! It was going to take her a long while to calm her racing heart, after THAT!

...

As they soared through the air, Merlin clutching the baby tightly under his jacket, he leant forward slightly.

"Why did you refuse to help her?!" He had to shout to be heard above the roaring of the wind as it rushed past them.

"I've told you already, I refuse to help any ally of the witch," the dragon replied in his normal voice, somehow still perfectly audible, as if there was no wind at all.

"But she's changing!" Merlin argued back. "I've seen it myself! She's not the woman she once was!"

"Indeed she is not," Kilgharra agreed. "And in time she will break free of Morgana's clutches completely."

"Then, you're saying that she'll join us? Come back to our side?"

"She will," the dragon nodded, dipping and dropping down towards the familiar grassy meadow where he and Merlin so often met. As they landed, the first few flakes of snow began to flutter down around them.

"So why did you leave her out there?" Merlin demanded as he slid from the dragon's back.

"She needs to be taught a lesson," Kilgharra replied simply, before taking off again with a great whoosh of air from his huge wings. Merlin sheltered his eyes from the falling snow as he watched him go, then looked to the body of the woman that the dragon had left beside him. How was he going to get them both back to Camelot?

"Merlin?" Leon called as he rode into the clearing, followed by a patrol of knights. "What are you doing here?!"

"Oh, am I glad to see you!" Merlin cried out in relief as he ran towards them.

...

Dante had finally made it back to the horses, and was just fumbling with Vixen's reins, trying to untie them, when a shadow loomed overhead. Hearing the loud thud behind her, she turned.

And came face to face with the Great Dragon.

"WHOA!" She cried in alarm, stumbling back away from him.

"Do not be alarmed," the dragon spoke calmly as he settled himself down, folding his wings back. "I would like a word."

"A...a word?" Dante repeated, her heart pounding furiously in her chest as she continued to back away. "You've made it perfectly clear how you...how you feel about me...!"

"And yet Merlin seems to trust you," the dragon replied casually, before shaking the snowflakes off his scaled head, like a dog shaking off water.

"You...you're not going to eat me, are you?" She ventured cautiously, trying to summon up her courage.

The dragon clearly found this comment amusing, as he let out a bark of laughter. "No, I am not going to eat you," he promised, when he saw her watching in alarm.

But rather than reassure her, it only seemed to set her on edge even more.

"You are cold," he said after a moment. Opening his huge jaws, he belched out a small jet of flame that ignited a nearby bush, which in turn erupted violently, causing Dante to shriek and jump back in alarm again. Even the horses shied and strained at their tethers, trying to escape. But the dragon merely laughed again.

"I scare you," he noted, and this time she actually managed to find enough courage to glare at him.

"You think?!"

"Then do as I say, and you will have no need to fear me."

Very slowly, Dante crept closer to the warmth of the fire. Though not too close. Because getting closer to the fire meant getting closer to the dragon.

"What would you have me do?" she asked eventually, deciding that going along with the dragon would probably be the safest thing she could do, right about then.

"You are already in two minds about the witch, Morgana," he stated calmly, watching her with his beady eyes. "She is your family. But she is also your bane. Just as Mordred is Arthur's bane."

"No!" Dante gasped, though what she was saying no to, was unclear.

"Carry on down this path, Lady Dante, and Arthur will be dead before the end of the year. And you along with him."

"I care not for myself," she said, summoning as much courage as she could. "But I cannot let Arthur die."

"Even though you already know how it will happen?" The dragon asked curiously. "The witch told you of her intentions to kill Arthur, and yet you made no move to stop her?"

"Because it's complicated!" She argued, finally finding her voice once more.

"No more complicated than you choose to make it."

"If I help Arthur, Morgana will kill me!" She protested.

"But you stated that you do not care for yourself."

"I don't! It's just...Oh I don't know!" She started pacing then, each step taking her that little bit closer to the fire as her confidence around the dragon slowly grew.

"A word of advice, Lady Dante. You must choose which side you are on. And you must choose it soon. Otherwise all that you know will come to an end."

Her head snapped up to look at him sharply then, but she quickly realized that it wasn't a threat. At least not from him, anyway. It was a warning of what was still to come.

"May I ask you something?" She asked eventually, after a long period of silent contemplation.

"Of course," the dragon nodded.

"You called Merlin 'Emrys'. Is he truly the Emrys that will be Morgana's doom?"

"As I once told Merlin...she is the darkness to his light. The hatred to his love. And only one of them may succeed, whilst the other will perish. You, who are caught between them, have but one chance to ensure that Merlin succeeds."

"If you are asking me to kill Morgana...?!" Dante started, backing away again, horrified.

"I am asking you not to get in the way when it is time for someone else to do the deed," the dragon corrected.

"She is my cousin! You're asking me to betray my own flesh and blood?"

"What is so hard about that, Young Lady? She would do the same to you."

"But I am not her!" Dante shouted, suddenly defiant and angry. Who the hell did this creature - this monster - think he was?!

"That is good," the dragon nodded then in a gentle voice, showing his teeth in what could only be described as a smile. Clearly this answer had pleased him.

"Keep telling yourself that, Lady Dante, and you may just live through this year after all."

And then he stretched out his wings and soared off, through the heavy sheets of snow, disappearing into the angry grey clouds above.

Dante shivered, despite the fact she was standing right next to the blazing shrubbery, and watched him go. Then she brushed the snowflakes away from her cheeks with a sleeve of the woollen shirt, suddenly wishing she had extra layers on underneath. As soon as she moved away from this bush, she'd freeze. But she couldn't stay here all night.

And then Vixen whinnied, stamping her foot in the snow as it began to settle on the ground around them. With a loud hiss every time a snowflake fell upon it, the fire slowly began to dwindle and burn itself out. And as she watched it, Dante knew what she had to do. Quickly untying the horses, she leapt onto Vixen's back, setting off for Camelot at a fierce gallop, Merlin's horse following along behind as she clutched his reins tightly in one hand.


	15. Confrontation in the Courtyard

**Author Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone! They truly mean a lot! :D...after a long, hard day at work, they are exactly the thing to cheer me up. Unfortunately the personal problems haven't been resolved, just yet, but things are looking a little brighter on the horizon, so hopefully I'll be able to resume posting 2 or 3 chapters at a time soon.**

**Until then, enjoy this chapter. I don't know if it's just me, or if you guys feel this way as well, but I feel the interaction between Gwaine and Morgana in Arthur's Bane part 1 was a bit of a disappointment. So I've written my own version of their confrontation, and how I believe it should have been. **

**So Enjoy, and R and R as always :)**

**...**

Gwaine hated snow. More than he hated sand - and he hated sand. A LOT!

"Blasted weather," he grumbled as he pulled his cloak up round his neck and hurried across the courtyard. His chainmail may have been thick and swelteringly hot in the summer, but in the winter, it was the complete opposite.

The individual links of metal would turn ice cold, and sometimes in the extremely dire conditions, such as now, the links would even freeze completely, making moving ten times harder, the mail ten times heavier, and the temperature ten times colder.

And no matter how much you tried to keep yourself warm, you were simply unable.

But it was not only the severe cold that he hated. Visibility was so poor in the blizzard-like conditions that he found himself tripping over everything, including his own feet.

He didn't even see the woman in front of him until he'd run straight into her.

"I'm sorry, My Lady!" He exclaimed as she was almost knocked off her feet. Feeling suddenly guilty and embarrassed, he grabbed her arm to help steady her, then saw her face beneath the hood, and recoiled in horror.

"Something wrong, Sir Gwaine?" Morgana asked when he snatched his hand back, as if he'd just been burned.

"What are you doing out here?" He glared, his hand dropping down to the sword at his belt.

"Oh come now, there's no need for that," she smiled, perfectly pleasant towards him. "I was merely going for a walk to stretch my legs. Being cramped up inside all day is enough to send anyone mad, don't you agree?"

"That didn't seem to occur to you when you kept us locked in those dungeons for a whole week!" He reminded her angrily.

"Well that's not fair at all," she affected a wounded tone then. "I'll admit, the others didn't really get out much, but I let you out at least once a day for good behaviour!"

"To fight for a measly bit of bread!" He spat, drawing his sword a little, in his anger. A few inches of bright steel appeared above the sheath on his belt - and he was silently relieved that the blade hadn't frozen inside. Otherwise he'd have been in big trouble.

Morgana glanced down with a frown.

"Choose your fights carefully, Sir Knight," she warned, looking back into his eyes once more, and seeing nothing but hatred and loathing there. "I may be a cripple, but I believe this is one fight you would not win."

"Do you want to put that to the test?" he challenged, drawing his sword a little more, so that half the blade was now visible.

"Do YOU?" She retorted, much too calmly for his liking.

The pair of them glared at one another for what felt like a lifetime as the snow fluttered down all around them. And then, very slowly, Gwaine sheathed his sword once more, knowing that she was right.

"How are your wounds?" he asked, with icy courtesy.

"I'll live, I assure you," she promised him, matching his icy tone with one of her own.

"Pity."

"Hard as it may be to fathom for someone as narrow minded as you, I am on your side right now, Sir Gwaine."

"Excuse me if I choose not to believe anything you say to me," he retorted.

"Your choice," she shrugged elegantly, pulling her thick black hood up once more, as the snowstorm somehow managed to intensify around them. "Perhaps in time you will learn that I am speaking truly. And then you will forgive me for what I may have done in the past, and you will also see that you are wrong about me, after all."

"The day that happens, I will gladly fall on my own sword!"

"Careful, Sir Knight. Or someone may be inclined to give you a little push."

"Someone like you?"

"I was actually thinking of her," Morgana replied, nodding to the courtyard entrance, where Dante was trotting through, covered in so much snow that her thick mahogany hair had turned white, and there was a good few inches resting on each shoulder. Both the horses were covered in equal amounts of snow, and had Gwaine not been so furious with Morgana right at that moment, he would have laughed at the ludicrous scene before him.

Dante took one look at the pair of them facing off in the very centre of the courtyard and swung down off Vixen, chucking the reins to a stable boy who'd braved the snow to retrieve the horses.

"What's going on?" She demanded, stalking towards them, sensing that trouble was afoot (whilst somehow miraculously managing to stay upright and not slip or skid on the patches of hidden ice beneath the blanket of snow that already came up to her ankles).

"Gwaine and I were just reminiscing on old times," Morgana replied casually. "Though his version of events is somewhat different to mine."

"Because mine is the truth!" He growled.

"Truth is but a matter of perspective," Morgana shrugged. "But that is a debate for another time. Lady Dante, will you accompany me back inside? I find the men of Camelot too narrow minded to hold a decent conversation with. Perhaps you might be a more intellectual companion?"

"No," Dante said simply, standing her ground. "Leave us be, witch. I want NOTHING to do with you."

Morgana glared daggers at her for a moment, before deciding to back down. "Very well. I shall find my own way. Good day to you both."

Both Dante and Gwaine held their breaths, not entirely able to believe that Morgana would give in so easily. But when she was safely back inside, and the door had closed, they both let go of the breaths they'd been holding, causing two simultaneous puffs of steam to erupt in front of them, which in turn caused them both to laugh slightly.

"What was all that about?!" Dante asked eventually.

"Never mind now," Gwaine shook his head, dislodging several flakes of snow - although most of them clung stubbornly to his hair and beard. And then he took her by the arm, realising that she was only wearing a thick woollen shirt, and little else beneath it. "Merlin's beard, you're freezing! Here!"

He ripped his cloak off quickly and slung it round her shoulders. She huddled up inside the material, feeling his lingering body heat, although she couldn't help but feel that it was too little, too late.

And then his words finally registered. "Does Merlin have a beard?"

"He may do, one day," Gwaine grinned as he started to lead her inside. "You never know. A big white fluffy one."

"And I suppose he'll have long white hair, as well," she laughed, trying to brush the snow from her own hair with one gloved hand.

"You never know," Gwaine repeated as finally they stepped inside, the relative warmth of the Citadel hit them and they both let out long sighs, glad to finally be out of the cold.

And then a thought struck Dante, and she gasped aloud. "Merlin! Is he back yet? Did he make it?!"

"He's with Gaius. They're both looking after the child, even as we speak."

"I have to see them," she started.

"No," he said forcefully. "First, you change out of those clothes. You'll catch your death of cold."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, starting off towards Gaius' tower.

"Dante!" Gwaine called as he hurried after her. "Dante wait!" But his protests, as always, fell on deaf ears.

...

Merlin was standing before the fire, warming his hands, when the door was thrown open and Dante trudged in looking weary, snow still clinging to a few strands of her hair. With every laboured step (as exhaustion had finally caught up with her and walking was getting harder with each passing moment), she left snowy footprints, and the little of her that he could see beneath the scarlet cloak of a knight was already soaked from the melted snow.

"Did you WALK back?!" He gasped in horror.

"No, I rode," she replied, as Gwaine stepped through the door behind her, kicking it closed. Then he took her by the shoulders and steered her towards the fire.

"Excuse me Merlin, ladies first," he said, pushing her in front of the flames.

"Be my guest," Merlin nodded, stepping aside to make room for her. Gwaine then proceeded to remove his soaked cloak from her shoulders and draped a blanket from a nearby stool over her instead.

"I'll go and fetch some dry clothes for you," he told her, before kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Won't be long."

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully to him. Once he had left the room, however, Merlin moved closer.

"What took you so long?!" He asked anxiously. "Gaius was about to get Arthur to send a search party out for you!"

"Your 'friend' wanted a word," Dante hissed back as Gaius came into the room, studying the pages of some herbal book intently.

"He...he what? What did he say?" Merlin asked, stunned. Dante merely shrugged.

"He put a few things into perspective for me. Let's put it that way."

Before Merlin could question her further, however, Gaius looked up and finally noticed they had a new visitor.

"Good grief, my girl! Whatever took you so long?!" He exclaimed, laying the book on his workbench and crossing the room to examine her at arm's length. "You're frozen! Let's get you warmed up."

"Please," Dante nodded eagerly, still feeling the terrible cold, despite the warmth of the room and the fierce heat of the fire.

Soon enough, however, she started to feel warm once more, thanks to the cup of hot wine in her hands, the bowl of steaming water that her feet were currently soaking in, the dry clothes that Gwaine had fetched for her and the two thick blankets draped round her shoulders.

Merlin and Gwaine - who had both been out in the cold as well, though not nearly for as long as Dante - were both receiving similar treatments (minus the bowls of steaming water for their feet). But all of them were at least warm again now, and Gaius was glad to hear no complaints from any of his patients. At least not the 'grown up' ones, anyway.

The tiny baby, however, was not so easily contented, as she lay in a makeshift crib in the corner of the room, surrounded by a mound of thick blankets that engulfed her to keep her warm.

"She needs her mother," Dante muttered, taking a sip of her hot wine.

"Poor thing," Merlin nodded in agreement. "I assume Nantes has already identified her mother?"

"He has," Gaius nodded from his seat on one of the wooden benches. "It was Elena you found."

Merlin's head dropped as he stared at the cup in his hands.

"If only we'd found her sooner," he sighed.

"It is not your fault, Merlin," Gaius insisted for the hundredth time. "If anybody is to blame, it is the monster who did that to her in the first place."

"What will happen now?" Dante asked sadly. "With Nantes, and the child, I mean?"

"I honestly don't know," Gaius shook his head. "He's pretty upset right now, understandably. But he's adamant that he does not want to even know his granddaughter. He wants her to be adopted, so that he has nothing further to do with her."

All three heads snapped up in unison then as his words sunk in.

"But that's awful!" Merlin cried.

"He can't disown her like that!" Gwaine added, equally as appalled.

"How could he do such a thing?!" Dante's protest was surprisingly the loudest, though they were all equally as shocked and horrified.

"The child is illegitimate," Gaius informed them, though he was equally as displeased about the whole situation as the rest of them. "Now that her mother is dead, and nobody knows who her father is, there is nothing to tie her to Nantes. He is free to disown her, and nobody can challenge him."

Dante did not speak, but rose very slowly and set the cup to one side. Then, stepping out of the bowl of water, she padded barefoot across the room to the crib, leaving wet footprints behind her and clutching the blankets round her shoulders.

"Hey there little girl," she smiled, reaching down into the crib and scooping the tiny baby into her arms. "Hi there. You're alright, aren't you. There, see, it's alright. You'll be just fine."

As she was swooning and fawning over the baby, Gwaine watched her with equal parts joy and sadness.

He was sad because the child was an orphan - abandoned and all alone. But he was full of a joy he'd never felt before as he watched Dante. He knew then, in that instant, that no matter what else, she would make a fantastic mother. The compassion and the love that seemed to pour from her, even now towards this young orphan, was overwhelming, and he bit his lip to stop it from trembling with emotion.

And that was when, as he watched her, the idea came to him. He stood as well, walking over to join her.

"Adopt her," he muttered quietly into her ear as he smiled down at the infant in her arms.

Dante's head snapped round suddenly to glare at him, though when she spoke, she remembered to keep her voice low, so as not to startle the baby. "What?"

"Adopt her," he repeated. "Take her as your own."

"I can't," she said immediately, placing the baby back into the crib where she slipped off into a peaceful sleep, one tiny fist grabbing a corner of the blanket for comfort.

"Why can't you?" Gwaine challenged as they moved away so as not to disturb her any more.

"Because I gave you up for a reason, idiot!" Dante hissed. "I take her now, and it's giving Mordred everything he needs to use against me! If that's the case, I may as well just openly admit I'm still madly in love with you, and be done with it!"

"Then you do feel something for me?" He teased, wrapping his arms about her waist. She leant backwards against his warm body and sighed contentedly.

"Of course I do, you daft bugger."

He planted a kiss in her soft, damp hair then sighed as well. In the crib, the nameless child began to snore and snuffle softly, and from across the room, Merlin watched in curious silence.

Dante's life rested in his hands - he knew that already. But what he'd never known until now was just how much she affected those around her. Gwaine, for instance, would be a broken man if anything were to happen to her. Merlin realised all of a sudden that it wasn't just Dante's life he held power over, then, but those around her, too.

And this realisation quickly helped him to make up his mind. Traitor or not, Dante did not deserve to die. She needed his help, and he was going to do everything in his power to help her. Whether she wanted his help or not.

...

As it turned out, however, he needn't have worried. As Gwaine took his leave to get back to his duties for the afternoon (ones that thankfully didn't involve working in the terrible blizzard), Dante paced about Gaius' chambers, seemingly deep in thought. It wasn't until Gaius left to do his daily rounds, however, that she finally spoke.

"What do you think will happen to her?"

"I don't know," Merlin told her honestly. "But I know for a fact that she's a fighter. Any other infant would have died immediately from shock. Whatever happens, she deserves the chance to live."

Dante placed a hand gently on the crib again and looked at the infant curled up inside, who looked right back with strange clear eyes, gurgling contentedly. She'd woken from the brief nap she'd decided to take, and was now studying her surroundings (or what little of them she could see from the confines of the crib).

Merlin actually heard a slight growl of anger from Dante as the baby kicked and her arm came free of the blanket to reveal the yellow bruising around her wrist. Merlin could see that the child was already entwining herself around the heart of the First Lady. He knew this could only be a bad thing, considering who Dante worked for, and how Morgana would revel at the chance to use the child to her advantage. But it was clear that Dante had already attached herself to this gurgling bundle of cuteness, whether willingly or not.

He didn't have the heart to warn her against such a bond now, however, so he stayed silent, watching her, whilst she in turn watched the infant.

Eventually she stepped away from the crib, deep in thought as she started to pace.

"Merlin?" She said cautiously, then stopped, almost afraid to continue. He watched her curiously.

"Yes?" He prompted when it appeared that she wouldn't continue.

"Can I ask you something?" She ventured after another lengthy silence.

"Of course," he nodded, turning away from the book that he'd been skimming over half-heartedly and giving her his full and undivided attention.

"You know Arthur better than anyone." It was a statement, not a question, but he found himself nodding anyway. "So...you'd know what kind of...well, what he'd do to a traitor if they...confessed their crime to him?"

"You're planning to confess?" Merlin gasped, astonished. Of all the things she could have said, he would never have considered this to be one of them. Until then, Dante had struck him as a survivalist - doing whatever she could just to stay alive that little bit longer. Confessing to Arthur completely contradicted everything she had ever done to keep herself that way.

Dante, however, merely looked to him for a long moment, before she resumed her pacing again.

"I'm going to tell Morgana that enough's enough. I want nothing more to do with whatever she's planning. But I need to be prepared for what Arthur will do. Because no doubt she'll ensure that he finds out, somehow. And I need to know if it would be better to confess or deny it when the time comes."

"Arthur would appreciate honesty," Merlin said after careful consideration. "I know it'll be hard, but I'd tell him everything now. Don't give Morgana anything to use against you."

"And what will he do if I DO confess?" She asked anxiously, wringing her hands, even as her pacing increased.

"I...honestly couldn't say," Merlin sighed. Dante knew from his tone that he was telling the truth, and nodded in acceptance of this fact.

"But if I know Arthur, he won't consider death...no matter the crime. Gwen betrayed him once, and all he did was banish her. I'm sure he'll show you the same mercy. Besides, every death he's been responsible for, he's seriously regretted after - even his enemies keep him up at night with the guilt of what he did to them. He would never add your name to that list of reasons for him to feel guilty. Trust me." Merlin was trying to sound positive, but Dante simply didn't share his optimism.

"I guess," she nodded eventually, although she sounded less sure now than she had earlier. Then she took a deep breath, threw off the covers that were still draped over her shoulders and grabbed her boots, quickly pulling them back on. "Well, no time like the present, I suppose. If I don't do it now, I'll lose my nerve."

"You're going to Arthur?" Merlin threw off the blankets round his own shoulders. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Thanks Merlin, but no. I'm going to Morgana first. Then perhaps I'll call on you to help me face Arthur. Assuming I survive Morgana's wrath, that is."

"I still think I should come," he insisted as he stood. "I can protect you against Morgana, at least."

"At the cost of revealing your secret to her? No, Merlin, it's better that I face her alone."

"Then good luck," he said sincerely, meaning every word. After all, if Dante was going to truly challenge Morgana, she'd need all the luck she could get.

As she took her leave, heading for Morgana's chambers, however, he quietly slipped out and followed. He wasn't about to let her face the witch alone, because there was no knowing what Morgana might do to her.


	16. The Game of Thrones

**Author Note: Alright, before everyone starts bashing on this chapter because of the conversation between Morgana and Dante, can I just point out that so many people are making comparisons these days between Merlin and Game of Thrones, that it was inevitable that eventually they would collide in many works of fanfiction. Even the two tv shows are borrowing and swapping actors on a regular basis now, so don't think of Morgana's words as a comparison to the show...think of them as one truth that both Merlin and Game of Thrones have in common.**

**For those of you who have no idea what I'm even going on about, don't worry, it's nothing important, hehe. **

**Enjoy, read and review as always :)**

**...**

On the way to Morgana's chambers, Dante had to pass by the set of stairs leading to her own. She made a quick detour inside, unaware that she was being followed.

Grabbing her father's dragon bone dagger and tucking it into her belt, she then proceeded to twist her hair up and hold it in place with a hair pin dagger she'd recently bought in the marketplace. They were only small weapons and wouldn't be very effective against Morgana's magic, but at least she felt a little better now that she was armed with SOMETHING, rather than just her bare hands.

Merlin hid in a shadowy alcove outside her room, waiting for her. Then he continued to follow discreetly from a distance. At first when he'd seen her divert into her room, he'd assumed that she must have either lied to him about going to confront Morgana, or she'd bottled it and lost her nerve. When she'd re-emerged, armed with a dagger at her belt however, he began to doubt his earlier assumptions about her and her intentions.

Eventually coming upon the guest chambers where Morgana was staying, Merlin found a small grate in the wall, that allowed for air to pass in and out and ventilate the room. He stood on tiptoes, peering through the grate so that he could see the chambers within.

Dante had wrapped her cloak about herself to hide the dagger, and was now standing behind Morgana, who was looking out through the window at the wintery scenes beyond.

"You almost had me fooled, out in the courtyard," Morgana stated conversationally after a moment. "Your acting skills are coming along nicely. I'll admit I severely underestimated you and your abilities."

"You underestimated my morality, as well, cousin," Dante spoke quietly, her tone deadly serious. Morgana turned to her then, her own look a mixture of curiosity and anger.

"Your morality?"

"All this time I have followed you blindly, never questioning your actions and motives, backing down quickly whenever I did try to challenge you...I have been your loyal and faithful servant. The morality of your schemes never even entered my mind."

"Until now, I presume?" Morgana turned completely then to confront her cousin.

"I have seen what life could be like, if we weren't always plotting and planning and conspiring. I have seen what a world of peace looks like. And I am tired, Morgana. Tired of all the treason and plotting and betraying that you would have me do, in your name."

"Be careful what you say next, Lady Dante."

Dante, noting the threat in Morgana's tone, allowed her cloak to drape open to reveal the dagger, which she drew in one fluid motion.

"Enough Morgana. I want out. You saved my life, now I have saved yours. We're even. I owe you nothing, any longer. As such, I demand to be released from my debt."

"You demand to be released?!" Morgana laughed sardonically, stepping forwards so that the tip of Dante's dagger pressed against her stomach. She showed no fear at all - unlike Dante, who was having to fight to keep her hand from trembling. "You think it is that easy to just turn your back and walk away?"

"Why not?" Dante challenged, forcing her anger to replace the fear in her voice.

"You think you can just come in here and tell me you're finished playing this game of thrones? Perhaps I didn't explain it to you clearly enough, at the beginning. There is NO escaping the game we are now playing. You either win...or you die, Dante. There is no alternative. No side door. No easy escape route. Once you play the game, you play it for life."

Somehow Dante found an extra ounce of courage from somewhere, then, and stepped back, sliding the dagger back into her belt. Then she held out her arms to either side. "Go on then, cousin. End my life, and this game. Because I will not help you win this it, and neither will I play it, any longer."

"No!" Merlin gasped, then clapped a hand over his mouth before he was heard. He quickly began wracking his brains for any kind of spell or incantation that could help the situation, even just a little. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and he had to wonder how the hell Dante was managing to keep such a calm composure as she face what would almost certainly be her doom.

But then Morgana smiled, and it was not a malevolent smirk, or even a sarcastic one. It was a sad smile.

"You are the only family I have left now, Dante. For the sake of our mothers and the blood that runs in our veins, I will not kill you," she said, turning to look back out of the window again.

Slowly, Dante lowered her arms and one hand found its way back to the hilt of the dagger at her belt - as if she was sensing a trap. And with good reason. Merlin knew better than to ever trust Morgana, these days. She'd shown her true colours too often now for him to ever forgive or trust her again.

"I will not play your game," Dante stated again defiantly.

"Oh you will," Morgana replied confidently with a nod. "I assure you, you will. Because I'm giving you a choice. Go to Arthur, confess your crimes and die by his hand - if you are so foolishly intent on dying...OR work for me. Help me ascend to the throne of Albion and once I am crowned High Queen, I will release you from my service. You will be free to go home, live the life you want and have the family that you crave so desperately. Like I said cousin, this game is not one you can simply walk away from. You either win, or you die. Choose wisely."

Merlin couldn't see her reaction, but judging from the tense silence that filtered from the room afterwards, he knew that Dante was in a dilemma. She so desperately wanted to do the right thing and make amends for all the wrongs she had committed in the past, but death was the only outcome she could expect if she went down that particular path. Yet if she continued to betray Arthur, she stayed alive - for as long as he remained ignorant of her actions. She was even being given the opportunity to quietly retire into family life, if she helped Morgana to steal the throne.

Without another word, the young Lady turned for the door, but Morgana glanced back over her shoulder with one of her usual smirks and said, "Think about it, Dante. It would be a shame to see that pretty head sent back to your father in a separate cask to your body. That is what Arthur will do if you side with him. Yet side with me, as you always have done, and I promise to return you whole, in one piece, and very much alive. The choice is yours."

The door swung open then and Dante stormed out, absolutely fuming. She'd been caught in a trap and she knew it.

Swallowing her scream of surprise when she marched headlong into Merlin, she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down the corridor into another alcove, well out of earshot of Morgana's room.

"Did you hear all that?!" She demanded, when she was finally satisfied that they were alone.

"It would be a lie to say I didn't," he replied, shrugging out of her grip and readjusting his neck tie and jacket.

She visibly deflated then, falling back against the stone pillar behind her and sagging in defeat. "What am I going to do, Merlin?"

"I know what you're not going to do," he said after a moment. When she looked up at him through defeated eyes, he fought back the urge to hug her and tell her everything would be alright. Instead, he forced himself to stay strong, and said instead, "You're not going to let her win. You're going to play her at her own game."

"I...I don't see how..." she started, and then paused as a patrol of guards marched past. One of them glanced sideways, saw the two of them hiding in the alcove and raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more.

"Great!" Dante groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Now everyone will think that you and I have a thing going!"

"Is that so bad?" Merlin asked, trying not to be offended.

"Everything's bad! This whole stinking situation is bad!" She snapped then, banging her fist off the hard, cold stonework. Then she yelped, clutching her hand to her chest. "That low down, demonic, satirical, evil, twisted, bloodthirsty, tyrannical, insane, galling...witch! To think, I share the same blood as her! It makes me feel sick, just thinking about it!"

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Merlin asked, taking her hand to examine her split knuckles.

"Is it?" Dante challenged."She's brought shame to my family! And now I've done the same! And nothing I do will ever atone for that!"

"You cannot change the past," Merlin agreed as he cupped her wounded hand in both of his. Then he stared at them for a moment, concentrating hard. Dante felt a warm tingle run across her knuckles, and then when Merlin removed his hand, she was amazed to find that they were back to normal, no hint of any damage ever having occurred at all.

"But you CAN change the future," Merlin continued as she examined her hand in amazement. "Mordred is up to something, but we can stop him and Morgana before anything else happens. Arthur doesn't need to know what you have done..." He reached forward hesitantly and after a brief pause, wondering if he was even allowed to, he took her chin and tilted it upward with the gentlest of touches. Their eyes locked and he smiled reassuringly.

"But I thought you said that it was better if I..." Dante started to protest as his hand dropped back to his side. And then she saw the look in the young warlock's eye.

Despite everything, she found herself smiling as well. "You have a plan?"

" I do. And trust me, my lips are sealed. You've more than earned my trust."

"Good to know," she sighed in relief. "At least I have one person on my side, then."

"Believe me when I say you're not as alone as you might think."

"I'll believe that when I see it. So what is this plan?"

...

"And you're saying Arthur will buy this? With no evidence to prove it?" Gwaine asked as he sat at the table, a half eaten apple in hand. Dante paced backwards and forwards in front of the window, and Merlin sat opposite Gwaine, his elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward in his chair.

"He doesn't need evidence if he has the word of a knight," Merlin explained. "You are a Round Table Knight. He has to take your word as your bond. If you say you have been approached by someone who would rather remain anonymous for their own protection, who is Arthur to argue with that? It's your word, as a knight, against Mordred's as a...well as a 'not-knight'."

"Why doesn't Dante just come forward and accuse him then?" Gwaine wondered aloud as he sat back in the chair, took a thoughtful bite of his apple and watched Dante as she paced back and forth, never once stopping, or pausing, even for a second. "Surely the word of Camelot's First Lady holds even more power than the word of a Knight?"

"It does. But if this backfires...if nothing comes of the accusations or he is found innocent, it will not bode well for Dante if she were the one to accuse him. Both Morgana and Mordred - and perhaps even King Lot - could make her life hell if they knew that it was her who had gone to Arthur."

"Whereas if you go to Arthur and make a public accusation on behalf of 'another', I can oppose you - to a certain extent - and keep my cover," Dante spoke for the first time since the three of them had come together for this meeting.

"Well, the plan has potential," Gwaine agreed at last as finally - mercifully - Dante stopped pacing. Not that it was annoying him, of course...it was just...unsettling. That was all. Now, however, she had stopped and already a sense of calm had started to seep through the room.

"So you'll help us then?" She asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He grinned and tossed her the half eaten apple. To anyone else, it would have been a disgusting thing, to have someone else's half-eaten fruit thrown at them. But Dante didn't care. She'd kissed Gwaine more times than she could count, and shared his bed often too. Sharing his apple was no big deal to her either, as she proved by taking a bite from it herself.

"Of course I'll help," Gwaine confirmed, settling back into the chair again with his hands behind his head. "You leave Arthur to me. By the time I'm finished, Mordred will no longer be a problem to any of us...and neither will Morgana, if I have anything to say about the matter. She and I have an old score to settle."

There was silence for a moment then, though it was not a tense, uncomfortable silence - but more the silence of three friends who had just come to an agreement. All that could be heard was the life of Camelot continuing on outside the walls of the room they sat in, and the quiet crunch as Dante took another bite of the apple before chucking it back to Gwaine to finish.


	17. Mordred's Trial

**Author Note: Hey everybody, I'm so sorry for the lateness of this next chapter. I cannot apologise enough. However, I have made it a bit of an extra long one, just to make up for it. So I hope you enjoy it.**

**And on a side note, who else is gutted that Merlin is coming to an end? I only hope they do justice to all the characters, especially Morgana. Poor woman deserves a break.**

**Shame I'm not that kind to her in my story, hehe.**

**...**

It was decided that Gwaine would not make his accusation straight away, as this would be far too suspicious, especially being so soon after Dante's argument with Morgana. So he, Merlin and Dante had all agreed to wait for a while, until Dante was back in Morgana's good books again.

For the next three months, Dante dutifully did as she was told by Morgana, well aware that Mordred was watching her every move, and determined not to give him the opportunity to catch her out.

She kept away from Gwaine in public, only going to him at night when she dared (though never staying, in case anyone should turn up to her room in the morning and find her bed unslept in), and she had even earned a few points back in her favour when she told Morgana about the child she had rescued (with prior consent from Merlin, Gaius and Gwaine, of course). As expected, Morgana had insisted on having the child to use for her own ends, but Dante had then informed her that Arthur had had the child sent off to a safe place that she did not know the location of. The part about the child being sent away was true. The part about Dante not knowing where she'd been sent, was no true.

Because she'd been sent to be adopted by Gwaine's sister Aryadne, and her husband Flynn.

Still, Dante had pleaded ignorance to that knowledge, and Morgana had seemingly believed her. So for the time being, as long as she kept herself busy and out of trouble, Dante was back in Morgana's good books and their disagreement had been forgotten. Morgana had even healed the cuts she'd inflicted upon Dante's palm a few days after their argument, as a gesture of 'good faith'.

Gwaine, meanwhile, had been kept busy with the other knights, trying to investigate the murder of Nates' daughter. He'd blamed Arthur and Gwen for her death, stating that it was their lack of 'discipline' over their kingdom that had allowed it to become unruly. He'd therefore firmly cemented his allegiance to Lot, tipping the balance against Arthur even further. Now Arthur was hoping that bringing Nantes' daughter's killer to justice would perhaps sway Nantes back to their cause, and had worked his knights tirelessly to investigate every tiny detail, every angle and every possible lead they could find.

Dante and the knights were not the only ones keeping themselves busy during those three months, however. Eira, in order to keep herself in Camelot, had also accepted an engagement proposal from Lord Brynden - a man she neither loved, nor cared an ounce for. It would be a marriage of convenience for the both of them, not a marriage of love, because whilst it kept Eira in Camelot, close to Morgana and Mordred, it also meant that Lord Brynden moved higher up the 'pecking order' of Camelot's Lords, considering he was now engaged to a Princess.

And Mordred still kept up his training as a knight, under the watchful tutelage of Sir Leon. Gwaine was about the only knight who Mordred had not befriended, although the young druid assumed this was simply because of the whole jealousy thing concerning Dante. He had no idea that in fact Gwaine and Dante were in league and plotting his downfall, just as he and Morgana were in league to plot Arthur's.

And then after three months of 'peace' it all kicked off, one morning during the thick of winter, as the usual court hearings were coming to an end for the day. As was the usual custom now, Arthur, Gwen and Dante had taken it in turns to hear each trial and conflict, weigh all the evidence and give their verdicts. When Arthur called for any more people to step forward and voice their troubles, nobody moved, each person looking to their neighbour and presuming that the trials had finally come to an end.

Just as Arthur was about to officially announce it, however, Gwaine cleared his throat and stepped forwards into the centre of the room before the three thrones. Dante knew immediately what he was going to do and sat up a little straighter in her chair, doing her best to look surprised by his actions.

"Sir Gwaine?" Arthur frowned. "You have something to say?"

"I do," the knight nodded, before bowing to each of them in turn. "I have an accusation to place before you, Majesties."

"An accusation? Against who?" Arthur asked.

"This morning, whilst out on patrol, I came across a young citizen of Camelot who wishes not to be named for his or her own safety. As a Knight of Camelot, I obliged to make this accusation upon their behalf, and act as their voice for the hearing."

"A noble gesture," Arthur nodded. "But that did not answer the question. What is this accusation? And to whom is it aimed at?"

"The accusation is one of abuse, blackmail and treason, sire, and it was against the druid, Mordred," Gwaine spoke confidently, never once looking Dante in the eye, which she was grateful for. She'd seen Morgana moving into the shadows up on the balcony at the far end of the room, and knew that they had to play very cautiously now, or the carefully composed plan could crumble down around them. And then it was not just her life on the line, but Gwaine and possibly even Merlin's as well.

"Mordred?" Arthur repeated, incredulous. Then he laughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I wish it were, sire," Gwaine replied, deadly serious. "But a knight's word is his bond, and as a knight, I give you my word that this is what I was told."

Arthur appeared to consider for a long moment, and Gwaine took the opportunity to briefly glance in Dante's direction, a single question burning in his eyes. Dante saw out of the corner of her eye and without even looking at him - she kept her eyes focused completely on Gwen and Arthur who were sitting beside her - she tucked a single strand of brown hair behind her right ear, using their secret code that had been invented so long ago by a couple of kids, and was still going strong, even today.

He knew then that Morgana was amongst them somewhere, behind him where he would not see. He had his back to the room, but Dante was facing everyone, and would be able to see the witch, wherever she was.

Finally Arthur stood. "Sir Gwaine is right. His word is his bond, and as such, we must act upon it. Mordred, step forward."

Mordred dutifully stepped from the crowd and bowed to the three in their thrones - his gaze lingering briefly upon the Lady Dante, who gave him a look that quite clearly told him she had no idea what the hell was going on. She'd secretly worked for months to perfect this particular look, for this exact situation, because she knew that it was crucial that she did not let him or Morgana know that it was her behind this whole accusation in the first place.

Fortunately for her she nailed it on the day, and Mordred truly believed that she had no idea what was going on. From the sidelines, Merlin had observed the whole thing and saw her first of all warn Gwaine about Morgana, then throw Mordred off with her look. He smiled, believing for the first time that this may not actually be such a bad idea after all. He'd doubted Dante's ability to hold it together under pressure, but so far the girl was holding her own brilliantly. He felt more than a little twinge of pride then. But one glance at Mordred reminded him why they were there in the first place - not to commend Dante's acting skills, but to stop Mordred and Morgana from their evil schemes.

"What do you have to say about these accusations, Mordred?" Arthur asked him now as the whole room slipped into an awkward silence.

Mordred simply laughed. "Absolutely ludicrous, sire. Whoever this person is that Sir Gwaine speaks on behalf of, I strongly suggest you examine their sanity."

Unconsciously, Dante's fingers tightened on the arms of her chair, her knuckles beginning to show white against the dark wood of the carved throne. When Gwaine cleared his throat, however, she quickly loosened her grip again.

Arthur turned to Gwaine, Dante's reaction going unnoticed, and raised his eyebrows. "Sir Gwaine?"

"I can assure you, sire, that this person is very much in their right mind. And they were also terrified for their very safety. Their fear was genuine - of that I have no doubt. So I beg you to consider what could have made them so terrified, if it is all, as Mordred claims, just lies."

"Duly noted, Sir Gwaine," Arthur nodded, before he turned to glance at Dante and Gwen - silently asking their opinions. Dante seized this as her chance to secure Mordred and Morgana's trust even further by doing as she'd warned Gwaine that she would have to do - protest against him, in favour of Mordred.

Gwaine had agreed that it was necessary, and had even pre-warned her what he intended to say, just so that she could have her arguments ready, for when the time came.

"Sire," she spoke up now. "If I may?"

"Of course," Arthur nodded, sitting back down again and motioning for her to take his place. As she did so, she glanced between both men, then her eyes settled on Gwaine, and she affected her usual icy tone with him.

"Sir Gwaine, is it not true that you are jealous of Mordred because of the time he spent scouting with me, during the Saxon Wars?"

"I don't see what that has to do with - " Gwaine started, the two of them now acting out their carefully planned argument.

"It has everything to do with this trial," Dante cut in. "Because how do we even know that this mystery 'citizen' even exists?"

"A Knight's word is his bond!"

"So you keep saying. Yet that does not stop a Knight from lying, when it suits him."

"What are you insinuating, Milady?"

"I am merely 'suggesting' that perhaps you concocted this whole 'a citizen came to me in confidence' scheme, so as to frame Mordred for a crime he has not committed, in retaliation because of your supposed rivalry."

Mordred, who had remained silent until then, grinned, delighted. Dante had Gwaine in a trap, it would seem. A trap he could not talk his way out of. Even up on the balcony at the back of the room, Morgana was pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. Perhaps she'd been wrong about her cousin's allegiance after all?

But both Dante and Gwaine knew exactly what they were doing. It was all part of the plan. Morgana was not the only one capable of coming up with these elaborate schemes, after all. And, just as planned, Gwaine gave his answer defiantly, and with as much cold, ruthless conviction as he could muster.

"You and I are finished, Milady. Whatever there may have once been between us is now gone and I feel nothing for you. In my opinion, you are no better than the man standing accused beside me!"

"How dare you!" Dante exclaimed. Despite his response being planned, it had actually stung quite badly. She'd expected it, of course, and yet it had still hurt. But then this only added credence to her act.

Arthur quickly rose then to step in between them, because right then it looked like Dante actually wanted to strangle Gwaine with her bare hands (which she did, and it was NOT part of the act).

"Are you accusing the Lady Dante of the same crimes?" He started, placing a hand on Dante's shoulder to hold her back.

Gwaine paused for a long moment, then shook his head. "No, I am not, sire. I am merely stating that in my mind she is no better than a traitor, because of what she did to me."

"I made a friend!" Dante called back over Arthur's shoulder. "How is that betraying you?!"

"Enough!" Arthur roared then, looking between them both. "Save your personal problems for private! This is about an official accusation of a knight of Camelot! Now if you have nothing more to say on the matter, Lady Dante, then sit down!"

For a moment he thought she would protest, and she was all ready to as well, when she saw the very briefest of nods from Gwaine - barely noticeable, even to her. But the look in his eye confirmed that she was not merely imagining things. He wanted her to do as she was told.

So she bit back her retort, turned her back on the king (which elicited a few gasps of outrage and surprise from the crowd), then slumped back in her seat, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair and placing her chin in her palm - looking utterly fed up and bad tempered.

Gwen reached over and patted her hand, offering a quiet word or two. Dante just huffed and Gwen looked back to Arthur, shrugging.

Arthur ignored the sulking Lady and turned back to Gwaine and Mordred again. "Sir Gwaine, as has already been noted, you have no evidence other than your solemn word. How do you suggest I should proceed with this hearing, if you cannot provide me any more than that?"

"I cannot say, sire," Gwaine replied politely. "I swore I would protect the identity of the citizen who came to me, and I very much intend to do that."

"Very well. In the meantime, I have no choice but to dismiss these claims until further proof can be provided," Arthur sighed.

This wasn't exactly what Gwaine, Dante and Merlin had expected, however, and the brief look of alarm that Gwaine and Merlin shared showed their surprise. Dante knew better than to act, no matter how she may be feeling, and instead kept up her 'bad tempered' pretence instead.

"Court dismissed," Arthur announced, and everyone began to filter out through the doors at the far end of the room. As was the custom, Dante, Gwen and Arthur disappeared through a back door, and Morgana waited until everyone had left, before she also slipped away into the shadows.

...

"What the hell was all that about?" Mordred commented, greatly amused by the trial hearing, as he stoked the fire in the hearth, causing the flames to jump higher. Dante stood looking out of the window into the courtyard below, where Gwaine and Elyan were preparing to go out for their usual afternoon patrol, and Morgana and Eira sat in the chairs on either side of the fireplace, watching Mordred.

"I have absolutely no idea," Eira offered eventually as she looked down at her engagement ring, then took it off and threw it onto the table beside her. "Where did such an accusation come from?"

"No idea," Mordred shrugged, still highly amused by it all. "It could have been that farmer the other day, perhaps?"

"Farmer?" Dante asked, looking over in surprise. If Mordred had indeed been terrorising others, this was good news! Well, it wasn't good news at all, it was actually terrible. But at the same time, if she could convince some of these other 'victims' to step forward and back up Gwaine's claims, then Mordred would not be able to get out of it on a technicality this time.

"Some fool thought he could cheat me out of a few gold coins," Mordred shrugged. "So I threatened to turn him into a toad if he did it again. I'd hardly call that blackmail or treason, though."

Eira laughed at this, but neither Dante nor Morgana seemed to find it funny. Dante turned back to continue watching Gwaine, lost in thought. Morgana watched her for a moment, then glanced at Mordred, before looking back to her again.

"Even if Mordred won't say it, I will," she started, reaching for her cup of wine. "Thank you for standing up for him in the trial."

Dante blinked in surprise, turning to regard Morgana in stunned silence. Had the witch just THANKED her?!

"Don't...don't mention it..." she stammered at last, struggling to find words through her surprise.

"Yeah, thank you," Mordred nodded, losing the amused smirk he'd been wearing all morning. "Arthur would never have believed me over one of his precious knights, if you hadn't stepped in like that."

"Yes well, it's not over yet," Dante replied distractedly as she watched Gwaine gallop away, out of the courtyard.

"What makes you say that?" Morgana frowned.

Now that she had nothing left to distract her outside, Dante forced herself to turn away and rejoin the group around the fire, instead.

"I just have a feeling," she shrugged. "Gwaine gave in too easily. He's up to something."

"Then you need to watch him," Mordred said, twirling the red hot iron in his hands.

"Me? You think that's wise?" Dante glared.

"Well you have a history with him," Morgana shrugged. "Who better than someone like you? Besides, he'll never trust me, I doubt he'll ever trust Mordred again, and Eira is engaged to another man. She cannot get close to him, even if she wanted to. You are the only one who can even get close enough to keep a decent eye on what he's up to."

Dante had to fight back the grin then, as she realised how ironic Morgana's words were. She was actively encouraging her cousin to get closer to Gwaine - the man that Dante was already plotting with behind all their backs. Morgana had just given her the perfect opportunity to be close to Gwaine without even arousing suspicion!

"Alright," she forced herself to sound reluctant. "But I can't promise anything."

"Noted," Morgana nodded. Then she turned back to Mordred. "And you! How many others have you been threatening?!"

"Not many, I swear!" he held his hands (and the red hot iron) up in protest.

"Well start listing them," Dante said then as she walked over to Morgana's writing desk, took a quill and piece of parchment and prepared to write down every name he said.

"Why?!" Mordred glared suspiciously.

"So that I can go and question them, idiot!" Dante snapped. "As First Lady, I have the right to question any witnesses. And I can scare them into keeping quiet, at the same time. If Gwaine convinces them to stand against you in a trial, you will have no chance. Not even I will be able to help you, then. But if we can get to them before he does..."

"Then he has nothing to use against me," Mordred grinned, understanding. "Alright, well let's see, there was..."

...

An hour later, Dante walked triumphantly into Merlin's chambers brandishing a scroll of parchment.

"What's that?" Merlin asked, looking up from under his bed.

"It's...what are you doing down there?" Dante frowned, only just realising that he was on the floor. Merlin smiled sheepishly and showed her the floorboard he'd been slotting back into place.

"I was reading and I heard someone coming. I panicked," he admitted, getting back up now that it was back in place.

"Right," Dante nodded, deciding it was probably just best not to even ask. Then she handed the roll of parchment to him. "List of people we can call as witnesses against Mordred."

"Where did you get this?" he asked, reading through the list of names.

"Mordred," Dante shrugged, sitting herself down on the edge of his bed.

"He told you everyone he's threatened?!" Merlin clearly wasn't convinced. Dante merely shrugged again.

"He thinks I'm on his side. I led him to believe that I was going to go to each of these people and scare them into silence."

"And when they turn up and give evidence against him?" Merlin frowned.

"As long as it stops Mordred, who cares? Besides, they don't have to turn up. I'll just write down everything they say, then give it to Gwaine and tell Mordred that he already beat me to them. Arthur can call on them if he likes, but it will be none of my doing."

"And how will you explain how Gwaine found out about ALL these people, on his own?"

"Gwaine's not called the Maiden's Knight for nothing," she smirked, finding the nickname highly amusing, but true none-the-less. And it surprised her that she wasn't jealous, either.

Somehow, for reasons unknown even to her, she'd accepted the fact that Gwaine could have just about any woman he so desired. Perhaps it was because he'd chosen her? He could have had any woman, yet he'd chosen her, over them all. That was both a very reassuring and a very sobering thought. And she felt honoured.

"I see you have this all planned out, don't you," Merlin grinned, breaking her from her train of thought.

"Whether it goes to plan is another matter entirely, Merlin," she reminded him, and he nodded in agreement, handing the roll of parchment back to her as Leon knocked sharply on the door, entered the chambers, bowed his head to Dante and addressed them both.

"Arthur would like to see you both in the council chambers immediately. A private matter."

Not liking the tone of Leon's voice, both Merlin and Dante were able to conclude that it was not good news that they would be greeted with. Glancing uneasily towards each other, they set off after Leon, towards the chambers where Gaius, Arthur and Gwen were already waiting.


	18. Mordred's Trial - Part 2

**Author Note: Hey everyone, hope you all had a fantastic Christmas. Merlin is well and truly finished now, sadly, although I have to say the finale was very disappointing (in my opinion, at least). However, so as not to spoil it for those who have not seen it yet, I will not go into details. Instead, I offer you part 2 of Mordred's trial, where Dante and Merlin sieze the chance to be rid of Mordred, once and for all.**

**Enjoy :)**

**...**

Gaius, Arthur, Gwen and a handful of guards were waiting for them in the Council Chambers.

"What's happened?" Dante asked, ignoring all protocols and speaking to the room's occupants as equals, as she strode into the room, Merlin hot on her heels. Arthur waved away the guards, ignoring her lapse in manners, and waited until the door was closed, before he started speaking.

"Nantes has joined Lot. He says it is our fault that his daughter is dead and that we do not deserve his help. This now seriously tips the balance in Lot's favour." The King began to pace, wringing his hands in agitation, his chainmail clinking and rattling as he moved.

"Which means?" Merlin asked as Gwen sat down, defeated, in the throne and Dante lent against a nearby pillar. Gaius and Leon merely looked down at their feet uneasily, and it appeared that Merlin was the only one amongst them who did not realise the gravity of the situation.

"Which means, Merlin, that unless I do something truly amazing, Lot will become High King of Albion!" Arthur roared as finally his temper and all his pent up frustrations boiled over.

"Alright, the man's a nasty piece of work," Merlin shrugged, still not fully understanding. "But would it be so bad for him to be High King? Would be less pressure on you...less responsibility. Don't you always complain about never having enough time to be with Gwen?"

"Merlin," Dante said softly, finally looking up from her finger nails, which she'd been studying closely until that moment. Her tone was grave and deadly serious, and Merlin felt his blood run cold. He knew then that what she would say next, he wasn't going to like one bit. And he was right.

"If Lot becomes High King...Morgana will be High Queen. She has accepted his proposal of marriage."

"Oh," Merlin said simply then, reality finally crashing down upon him.

"Indeed," Gwen finally spoke up for the first time. "All Arthur's hard work will have been for nothing."

"But we must be able to do something!" Merlin protested. All around the room, the others shook their heads, aside from Arthur, who continued to pace in agitation.

But then suddenly Dante stood up straight, away from the wall. "What of the accusations Gwaine has thrown at Mordred?" She asked.

"Dante, is now really the right time to - " Arthur started, but Dante cut across him.

"Why don't we throw the accusation of Nantes' daughter's murder, into the mix? If Mordred is found guilty, Nantes will have his killer, we will have the proof that we're not as incapable as he's making us out to be, and maybe...just maybe, he will come over to our side."

"You are saying that we pin the blame for murder on an innocent man?" Arthur fumed, but Dante merely scoffed.

"No man is innocent, Arthur Pendragon. Least of all Mordred."

"If there's something you're not telling me about him," Arthur started, stepping forward ominously. Dante held her ground, although she was silently trembling under the King's gaze. Arthur's anger was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. He was close to breaking point and she was pushing him nearer and nearer with every second.

Just as she pulled the roll of parchment from her sleeve, however, and was about to hand it over, Percival charged into the room. "Sire! It's Mordred!"

"What is it?!" Arthur snapped as Gwen jumped up from the throne, and everyone else turned to the knight.

"He's been arrested. And so has Gwaine."

"Under what charges?" Dante asked, speaking the question that everyone was thinking.

"Fighting in the marketplace. Gwaine claims he was defending himself, whilst Mordred claims he was provoked."

"Will this madness never end?!" Arthur groaned, raising a hand to his throbbing temple. Gwen stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"Don't trouble yourself with them, My Love. Let them battle it out in the arena and be done with it. They can bash away at each other until their hearts are content, and by tomorrow morning, the whole silly argument will be forgotten."

"If only it were that simple," Arthur sighed, turning to Leon and Percival. "Bring them both here. We'll settle this here and now, and be done with it."

"Yes, Sire," Leon bowed, and the pair of knights hurried from the room. Gaius moved his gaze from the two monarchs, to Merlin, and finally to Dante. They were all looking stressed and strained by this latest development. All except Dante, who instead looked thoughtful.

Well, perhaps thoughtful was an understatement. He could practically see the myriad of thoughts crossing her mind as she no doubt cooked up some elaborate scheme. He was well aware of her plotting with Merlin and Gwaine, after all, and apparently this whole situation had just given her a bit of a brainwave.

"Something on your mind, Milady?" he dared to venture after a moment - if only to break the awkward, tense silence that had fallen upon the room. Dante started like a scalded cat, breaking suddenly from her train of thought. Then she quickly gathered her wits once more.

"I was just thinking, Gaius," she offered. "That idea of Gwen's...it's not such a bad one, after all."

"You believe Mordred should be given a trial by combat?" Arthur frowned. "Why go to so much bother?"

"Because I know Gwaine," she sighed, beginning to pace. "He doesn't lie. If I knew nothing else about him, that would be enough to tell me that he is a good man. I don't really believe he's making these accusations up."

"But you said in the trial - " Gwen started.

"I know," Dante groaned. "But I was...annoyed. I let my anger cloud my judgement. Now that I've had time to think on it more clearly, however, I've realised that lying is not one of Gwaine's strong points. He was never very good at it, and I don't believe much has changed these past few years - in that respect at least."

"I did see Gwaine talking to a woman in the marketplace the other day," Merlin piped up then, seizing the opportunity to make this right again - just as Dante was trying to do. "She looked distressed. And she kept glancing over her shoulder as though she was afraid of something."

"Or someone," Arthur added thoughtfully. "Was Mordred around at the time?"

"Well, the funny thing was, when he walked round the corner, she immediately turned and ran away, leaving Gwaine looking confused."

"How is that funny?" Gwen wondered with a frown. "Surely you could have mentioned that earlier?"

"Well it never really struck me as important until now," Merlin shrugged apologetically. The truth was he'd only just made it up on the spot, but nobody except Dante could know that, so he had to act like he'd known it all along.

"A terrified woman runs away from a knight, and you don't think anything of it?" Arthur asked incredulously. "Sometimes, Merlin, I really do worry about you!"

Merlin's retort was cut short by the doors being opened and two struggling men dragged in by three armed guards each. As soon as Gwaine saw the assembled group, however, he quietened. Mordred did not, and continued to fight his escort until at last they forced him to his knees before Arthur, swords pressed to his neck and his wrists chained behind his back.

"Arthur," the druid smiled confidently.

"That's your King you speak to!" Gwaine roared, straining against his captors, trying to get at Mordred once more. "Show some respect!"

"Yes, thank you Gwaine," Arthur spoke calmly, holding up a hand to silence the knight. Then he looked between the pair, before his eyes finally settled on Mordred. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Mordred. And this is how you repay me? By brawling with one of my knights?"

"With all due respect -" Mordred started, but Arthur cut across him.

"Enough, Mordred. I've had it with this petty rivalry between you and Gwaine. Settle this now, like grown men, in the arena. Then be done with it."

"You are saying we should duel?" Mordred asked, taken back by the King's statement.

"I'm saying, I'll give you a trial by combat, in order to prove that you are indeed as innocent as you claim. Then, whatever the outcome of the trial, that will be the end of it. One way or another. Agreed?"

"I have no problem with that, Sire," Gwaine replied calmly.

"Well, if His Majesty insists," Mordred shrugged, trying to act indifferent about the whole situation.

Gwaine fought back the smile then as his confidence finally returned. He could easily beat Mordred in a duel...unless Mordred cheated and used magic. He didn't stand a chance, then. So perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

Seeing the brief flash of panic in Dante's eyes, he knew that she'd just had exactly the same thought as him. But as always, she was quick to think of a solution.

"My Lord," she said quickly, before Arthur could agree to the fight between Gwaine and Mordred. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"But you just said - " Arthur started, confused.

"Oh by all means, a trial by combat is a fine idea," Dante started quickly, intending to explain. "But I do not think Mordred should be the one to fight Gwaine. He should find a champion to fight in his stead."

"Why?" Arthur frowned. "Mordred's more than capable of fighting his own battles."

"Yes, but he's nowhere near as experienced as Gwaine. If Gwaine wins, people will say it was an unfair fight. And if, by some small miracle, Mordred wins...people will say he used his magic to cheat. If he were to choose a champion who was more equal to Gwaine in strength and skill, however, then people could not contest the victory either way."

"She has a point, Sire," Gaius nodded, speaking for the first time.

Arthur considered for what felt like an eternity then, and Gwaine and Dante shared a brief glance, wondering if this would work. Finally, the King nodded.

"Mordred, you have twenty four hours to find yourself a champion, otherwise the fight is forfeit and I will have no choice but to find you guilty."

"Very well," Mordred nodded, though he looked none too pleased by the idea. A vicious glare in Dante's direction warned her that she would soon be finding her way back into Morgana's bad books again, but she was beyond the point of caring now. What was the point of all this tip-toeing around? If you were going to do something, might as well do it properly.

"Dismissed," Arthur told the room, before he turned and stalked away, Gwen trailing after him and wondering how she would ever break him out of this sour mood now.

The guards let Gwaine and Mordred go, but pushed them towards opposite exits of the room, and not wanting to cause a further scene, Gwaine did as he was told and left. He wanted to get to the other knights before Mordred, and warn them off, anyway.

As he passed Dante, however, she moved sideways ever so slightly, so that he bumped into her.

"Sorry Milady," he apologised, as she secretly pressed the scroll of parchment into his hands.

"It's alright, Sir Gwaine. No harm done," she smiled sweetly as he sidestepped round her, the parchment crunched up in his fist so nobody could see.

He had no idea what it was, but if Dante was giving it to him without wanting anyone else to know about it, then it must be to do with Mordred.

Gaius saw the exchange, but acted like nothing had happened, as he was thinking along the same lines as Gwaine. Calling Merlin after him to help finish his rounds, the room finally emptied of everyone but the Lady and the Druid.

And that was when Dante realised she should have left with one of the others. Now she was alone with Mordred. And that was a very grave mistake indeed.


	19. An Unlikely Saviour

**Author Note: Alright I'm well aware I left you a kind of evil cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter, mwahahaha, so I suppose I'd better let you know what happens next. This is only a short chapter, but I am almost finished with the next one, so it should be up sometimes within the next few days. **

**Until then, Dante finds herself in a spot of bother with Mordred and an unlikely hero comes to her aid.**

**Enjoy! :)**

**...**

Almost at once, Dante felt her throat tightening - inexplicably constricting - cutting off her vital supply of air.

She didn't need to look in Mordred's direction to know that his livid eyes were glowing golden.

"The game's up, traitor," he spat as he stalked towards her.

A veil of red descended upon the world and she clawed at her throat, but there was nothing there her hands could touch.

"You...can...talk!" She managed to rasp, as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Ah yes, but you see...I'm betraying a tyrant," Mordred said as he continued his advance, curling his hand into a fist for added effect, even though he really didn't need to. She backed up, away from him, but still she choked under his invisible grip, and eventually her knees buckled and her legs gave way completely. She fell to the floor in front of Mordred, still gagging and trying to claw at her throat, barely able to breath, panic really starting to set in now.

"Arthur despises me, and everyone like me. He may pretend to appreciate magic now, but Uther taught him too well. A leopard can never change his spots and Arthur Pendragon will never accept magic."

"Es...especially...if ...it's used to k...kill ...his First...Lady!" Dante wheezed, her voice barely audible now as her throat was slowly crushed. His eyes flashed even brighter and her whole body tensed as a desperate squeak escaped her lips. This was it, she couldn't breathe at all. Any second now the world would go dark, and she would never again take another breath.

"Let her go, Mordred!"

Through her teary, blurred vision, Dante cast all about furiously. She knew that voice! But her oxygen starved mind could not put it to a face.

"She's no use to us dead," the voice spoke again. "Let her go."

"She's a traitor!"

"No. She's done you a huge favour. And this is how you repay her? Shame on you. Let her go, before I make you."

"How has she done me a favour?" Mordred protested. But his eyes ceased glowing their sparkling yellow and went back to their original colouring, and all of a sudden Dante could breathe again.

Collapsing onto her hands and knees, she coughed and gasped, suddenly feeling the welcome rush of air flooding back to her lungs. And then her arms gave way and she fell to the floor completely, desperately trying to recover as she lay on the cold stone. It took every ounce of energy she had left just to breath.

Hushed voices could be heard nearby, but she just couldn't focus on what they were saying. She was too disoriented from being choked almost to death.

Her breathing still hadn't steadied, and each drawn breath was a harsh wheeze that didn't allow her as much air as she'd have liked. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wondered if Mordred had done some kind of permanent damage to her throat. And if he had, how the hell was she going to talk her way out of this one?

"She can barely breath, you fool," That oh-so-familiar voice spat again, and Dante felt gentle hands grasping her by the shoulder. Then she was gently rolled onto her back and found herself staring up at the anxious face of Morgana.

"What were you thinking?!" Morgana snapped at Mordred as she brushed the tears from Dante's cheek. Then she looked down at her cousin, who was still struggling to breath properly.

"This was never my intention," she said in a hushed voice, as she lifted Dante's head into her lap.

"I...I can't..." Dante rasped, one hand moving back to her throat again, as it continually burned - the sensation of an invisible force still tingling where Mordred's magic had gripped her so fiercely.

"Just relax," Morgana soothed. "Everything will be alright now. Don't worry about anything other than breathing, for the moment."

Dante may have hated her cousin sometimes - well, not hated Morgana, as such. Just the terrible things she did. But right then, she felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of...of what? She couldn't describe it. All she really knew was that she was so glad to see the High Priestess, and to know that everything would be alright.

Morgana would fix her throat, and her voice along with it hopefully (and even if she wouldn't, Merlin probably could), and she had somehow managed to talk Mordred round into believing that Dante had done him a big favour.

"Up you come," Mordred said as he appeared over her suddenly, taking her by the shoulders - a complete contrast to the furious young man he'd been just moments before.

"Get...away!" Dante protested, trying to push him away, but he was too strong and she had still not recovered from his attack.

"Hey, it's alright," he smiled as he picked her up off the floor and set her back on her feet. Then he threw her arm over his shoulder. "Morgana explained everything. It was all a simple misunderstanding. I forgive you."

"You...forgive me?!" She retorted in undisguised disgust as Morgana ducked under her other arm. "You...attacked...me! You...accused...ME!"

"And now I forgive you," he nodded calmly. "But I would suggest for the time being that you don't talk. Your voice sounds damaged."

"I wonder...why?!"

"Mordred, please!" Morgana exclaimed in frustration. "Go and find your champion!"

"Ah yes, the champion. I might start in the barracks," Mordred spoke thoughtfully as he ducked back out from under Dante's arm again. "Any suggestions for who would make a good champion, Dante?"

"Careful Mordred," she warned, her voice cracked and damaged, although her breathing had returned to some sort of normality once more. "There are a lot of swords in the barracks. I'd hate for you to fall on one."

Morgana smirked at the comment, highly amused, but Mordred simply scowled. His eyes glowed golden and Dante once again began to choke.

"Enough Mordred!" Morgana snapped, lashing out and backhanding him sharply. "Leave her be!"

"Yes Milady," the druid growled, before turning his head away to spit out a tooth and some blood.

"Can you walk?" Morgana asked Dante. When she nodded, Morgana smiled. "Then come with me. We have much to discuss. I have been busy these past few hours, and I want to share with you my plan."

"Plans?" Dante croaked.

"Plans," Morgana agreed. "Believe me when I say that we have yet another insider joined to our cause, here in Camelot. Although I have to admit, she was not as willing as you, Mordred or Eira seemed to be. I had to use...'persuasion', shall we say?"

"Friendly?" Dante asked suspiciously.

Morgana smirked in amusement - her cousin clearly knew her too well. "Decidedly not," she replied at last. Dante nodded, as if she'd expected this answer.

"So who is it?"

"An old friend of ours," Morgana said cryptically, refusing to say any more on the matter.


	20. To Kill the King

**Author Note: Whoops :s a few days turned into a few weeks there, didn't it. I do apologise! Time flew away with me as I got caught up in a lot of stuff going on :s...anyways, here's 2 chapters for you, just to make up for it. Poor Dante...things really don't go her way, do they? She's about to step out of the frying pan, into the fire.**

**...**

"Gwen?!" Dante gasped as she walked into Morgana's chambers and saw the unconscious Queen slumped in a chair. Forgetting about her own problems for the moment, she ran to the chair, crouched in front of it and took Gwen's hand in her own. Then she glared at Morgana.

"What have you done to her?"

"I told you," Morgana shrugged as she locked the door so they would not be disturbed. "I persuaded her to join our cause."

"What have you DONE to her?" Dante asked again, more firmly. Instantly, Morgana knew that her cousin disapproved of the situation.

"She met another little friend of mine," the High Priestess shrugged, moving over to something on the table that had been covered by one of Morgana's dark cloaks. As she whipped it off to reveal a glass jar beneath, Dante gasped again.

"A Fomorroh?!" She stood sharply. "You used a FOMORROH on her?!"

"Keep your voice down," Morgana snapped, covering the jar back up again. Beneath the cover, the snakes heads hissed menacingly. Gwen stirred, but did not waken, causing Dante's attention to divert back to her instead. She crouched again in front of the chair and placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder. The Queen seemed unharmed. There were no visible injuries or traumas, at least. But this did not reassure Dante in the slightest. She knew that magical users like Morgana and Mordred did not need to inflict physical wounds to cause terrible pain to someone.

She'd found that out the hard way, and gingerly rubbed her tender throat again.

"How do you know about the Fomorroh?" Morgana asked Dante suspiciously, advancing on her cousin from behind.

"My mother was a druid. I am no stranger to them or their rumours about you High Priestesses," Dante retorted, standing again so she was on Morgana's eye level. Then she glared at the witch, who glared right back.

For a moment, there was a silent confrontation as neither would back down or be the first to break their gaze and look away. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, Morgana smiled. This wrong footed Dante and she blinked in surprise, breaking her gaze and losing the silent showdown.

"Your mother was a wise woman, to warn her daughter of the dangers of this world. When we see her again, I should make sure I say thank you to her, if I were you."

"What do you know about my...wait...what do you mean 'when we see her again'?"

"Did I not tell you?" Morgana asked casually. "I know where your mother is. She's a slave to Odin, but I intend to free her after this war is over. That quiet little family life you so crave isn't that far out of your grasp, you know? All you have to do is stretch your grasp just that little bit further, and it shall be yours."

"If I stretch too far, I might hurt myself," Dante countered, although this revelation about her mother had, in fact, knocked her for six and she was struggling to even come to terms with it, let alone hold a verbal battle against Morgana at the same time.

"Indeed you might," Morgana agreed. "Which is why I've brought Gwen along. To take some of the pressure off you, dear cousin. I had intended for you to do the deed and have the glory, but Gwen can get closer to Arthur than you ever will. So I'm passing the task to her, instead. Should she fail, however, then it is all yours."

"What do you mean?" This was all too much for Dante. She couldn't think, her throat still burned and her head was spinning with all these revelations. She moved over to the window and cracked it open a little, breathing in the fresh air and trying to sort out and process all the new thoughts and revelations that were crashing around inside her skull, making concentrating on anything practically impossible.

"Gwen is going to kill Arthur," Morgana said simply, moving to join her as they both looked out at the kingdom beyond.

And then she waited for the reaction.

It didn't come as immediately as she thought it might. It took a few moments for the thought to register in Dante's mind, but when it finally did...well, the reaction was well worth the wait.

"WHAT?!" Had she not had her voice damaged by Mordred, Dante might literally have woken the entire castle with her shout. As it was, it broke midway through and ended up more of a strangled cry instead. But it was still pretty impressive, never-the-less.

"I take it this idea displeases you?" Morgana asked, watching Dante's reaction with undisguised amusement.

"Displeases me?" Dante repeated furiously, rounding sharply on Morgana. "Are you bloody stupid?!"

"Excuse me?" Morgana gasped, taken back by the sudden angry outburst. She'd known Dante probably wouldn't like the idea, but she'd never expected such a negative reaction. "How dare - "

"You stupid, foolish, arrogant, blind old bat!" Dante really did let rip then, absolutely fuming as she stalked towards Morgana. The witch, taken completely by surprise by this reaction, backtracked a few paces, wondering if a spell or two might be in order to calm her raging cousin down.

"Don't you get it?!" Dante continued, as Morgana backed up against the table. She began to grope about behind her for something to use in defence, should she need to.

"Clearly not," she spat back as finally, mercifully, Dante stopped stalking towards her and kept a healthy distance, knowing not to push Morgana too far. "Enlighten me, dear cousin."

Dante took a deep breath, closed her eyes and silently counted to ten, visibly forcing herself to calm down, before she eventually replied. "You are engaged to Lot. When you marry him, you will become his Queen."

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of that!" Morgana's own temper surfaced now.

"As it stands, Lot is going to become High King of Albion and there is nothing Arthur or anyone else can do about it. You are just weeks away from being crowned High Queen."

"Your point is?" Morgana interrupted, impatiently.

"My point is that in a few weeks, you will have a much bigger throne and you will hold so much more power than you could ever dream of having upon the throne of Camelot alone. And Camelot will be under your control, regardless of who rules here."

"What are you suggesting, cousin?" Morgana asked curiously, all her anger fading away as she realised that Dante might actually have a point.

"I'm saying," Dante started carefully, aware that she was walking along a knife edge here. She had Morgana's attention for the moment, but that didn't mean she'd be able to keep it for long. She would tactfully need to get to the point as quickly as possible, whilst avoiding any wrong words that could destroy everything in an instant.

"What I'm trying to say," she said again as Morgana poured two drinks and handed one cup to Dante. "Is that you don't need to kill Arthur. It would be much more...'beneficial' to you if he were to remain alive, and on the throne of Camelot."

She let that thought linger for a moment as she took a sip of the wine, feeling the soothing effects upon her raw throat almost immediately. All this shouting and arguing was certainly doing nothing for her ruined vocal chords.

"You want me to let Arthur live?!" Morgana almost choked on her own drink in surprise. She stared at Dante incredulously for a moment, then began to laugh as though she'd just been told a very funny joke, instead. Dante frowned, taken back by this reaction.

"Oh I do envy your innocence and naivety sometimes, Dante. I really do. It's adorable," the witch chuckled with a shake of her head.

"I don't envy your stupidity at all," Dante retorted, failing to see the funny side in any of this.

This earned her a sharp backhand, which was more of the reaction she'd been expecting all along. But even as she tasted blood from her lip that had just been split, she refused to back down.

"You still don't get it, do you? Arthur is a formidable warrior, an impressive leader and a man who inspires great loyalty from his followers! You've already found out that he makes one hell of an enemy...can you imagine what he'd be like as an ally? To fight in your corner when the need should arise?" She dabbed gingerly at her bloodied lip, before continuing. "Because you will have enemies, Morgana. More than you do now. But you let Arthur keep his precious throne...you let him keep his kingdom, and you will have an army under your command, unlike any other. No-one will dare to stand in your way. You'll be known as the Queen who enslaved the Once and Future King. Imagine the fear THAT would strike into the hearts of your enemies! With both Lot AND Arthur by your side, you would be unstoppable."

Morgana frowned then, starting to pace back and forth as she contemplated this proposition carefully. As she watched her cousin pacing, Dante sipped carefully at the wine again, wincing as it stung her lip. But she'd rather endure that pain over the pain in her throat any day.

"You've let your desire for revenge and your lust for power blind you," she stated eventually, before holding her breath - half expecting another backhand for her boldness. Or, at the very least, another round of verbal combat. But Morgana was deep in thought, the cup held loosely in her hands, and for a moment, Dante wasn't even sure that she'd heard. She was just about to repeat herself, when Morgana finally stopped pacing.

"You know something, cousin?" she said at last, looking to Dante with a smile. "You're smarter than you look. Seems you're not just a pretty face after all."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Dante smiled - though not too much. She didn't want to aggravate her lip again.

"So, what are you going to do about Gwen?" she asked, glancing over to the unconscious Queen.

"Well, she's of no further use to me now," Morgana shrugged. "I'll destroy the Fomorroh and she need never know what happened."

Satisfied by this answer, Dante finished the remainder of her drink, then sighed. "I should be getting back, before anyone notices I'm gone."

"Indeed," Morgana nodded. As Dante reached for the door, however, Morgana called out to her.

"Your boy Gwaine has gotten himself into a spot of bother with Mordred. Why don't you see if you can fix that little problem for us, too? The last thing we need is for either of them to end up dying by the other's hands and undoing all our hard work to bring peace back to Camelot."

"I'll try," Dante nodded, relieved that Morgana had finally seen sense and come round to Dante's way of thinking. Admittedly it had been easier than expected, but the end result was still the same, so Dante was not going to complain. She may have just saved Arthur's life, after all.

Leaving Morgana's chambers in much better spirits than when she'd stepped into them a while earlier, she went off towards the barracks, sure that she'd find at least one of the two men in question.

Had Dante not let her personal feelings of triumph cloud her instincts, she would have known, however, that something was very, VERY wrong. Morgana had given in far too easily.

...

As she closed the door to her chambers again, turning and smirking to herself, Morgana couldn't help but revel in how easy it had been to fool her cousin. Poor, innocent, naive Dante really had no clue at all. She should have known by now that Morgana would never back down so easily, especially where Arthur was concerned.

"Oh bless you cousin," Morgana chuckled to herself as she walked over to Gwen's chair and placed a hand on the Queen's shoulder, shaking her gently and awakening her from her slumber, pulling her back into the land of the living.

At the back of Gwen's neck, a small raised lump moved a little, as though something were alive under her skin - and indeed it was. The head of the Fomorroh was already working it's magic, enslaving Gwen's mind and binding it to Morgana's will.

"Good evening Milady," Morgana smirked as Gwen blinked up at her sleepily. "I thought we could play a little game."

"What would you have me do?" Gwen asked as she stood slowly from the chair.

Morgana stepped round behind Gwen to watch in silence for a moment as the Fomorroh continued to writhe about. Then finally it settled.

With another satisfied smirk, Morgana stepped up behind her former friend, leant close to her ear and said softly, "I want you to kill Arthur Pendragon."

...

Dante had no luck finding either Gwaine or Mordred in the barracks. Percival was in there, but even he hadn't seen either man since their arrests, earlier in the day. Still, seeing the look of panic at the fact he had not spoken to Gwaine, Percival guessed what was playing on her mind and gently took her to one side, away from the other knights who were just coming in, back from one of their patrols.

"I don't know what you and Gwaine are up to," he started quietly. Dante opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, waited until a knight had passed by, then continued on. "But I am with you, Dante, no matter what. Should you or Gwaine ever need help, just call my name and I'll come running."

"You...you would do that?" She asked, stunned.

"I would," he nodded. "You are my friend, Danny. I will not let anything happen to you - ever. And if you and Gwaine are up to something, I will not ask. You will tell me when I need to know, I'm sure. But until then, always know that I have your back, no matter what happens."

"And I'll always have yours," she promised, touched by such a gesture of faith from the gentle giant. "I promise you, once I've spoken to Gwaine, I'll tell you everything."

"There is no rush," he smiled. "Only when you are ready. Now, as Gwaine is neither here, nor in his room, might I suggest you try the tavern?"

Dante laughed aloud then. "I guess that would be the logical place to look," she conceded. "Thank you Percival."

"Always a pleasure, Milady," he grinned, escorting her back through the crowd of knights towards the door - his huge bulking figure carving a path through the other men for her.

As she passed through the courtyard on the way to the tavern, she didn't notice a cloaked figure hiding in the shadows.

Gwen waited until the Lady had passed by, then slipped out and headed for another door across the way - Morgana's plan now firmly in motion.


	21. Dante's Sacrifice

Unfortunately the tavern was a dead end. Dante left feeling both frustrated and slightly worried. It seemed as though Gwaine had literally vanished off the face of the Earth...or at least, he'd vanished from the face of Camelot.

As she was crossing the dark courtyard of the Citadel, intending to return to her room and start again in the morning, Dante tried to think of all the logical places Gwaine might be. But then she remembered this was Gwaine.

So she started thinking of all the places he was LEAST likely to be.

A sudden shadow out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned in time to see a dark cloak disappearing round a corner.

"Gwaine?" She called out, starting to follow. As she rounded the corner, however, the mysterious person had vanished.

Frowning in confusion, Dante looked all about for a moment, then convinced she must have imagined it, started back the way she'd come, just in time to see the door leading up to Gaius' quarters swinging shut.

A sudden, intense desire to investigate caught her completely off guard and she found her feet moving towards the door, without any recollection of ever intending to go that way in the first place. Still, something was drawing her there, and she decided to go with it.

It wasn't often she got these rare feelings, or 'gut instincts' as her father used to call them. But she'd learned by now, never to ignore them.

So she started for the staircase leading up into the tower.

"Gaius?" She called out as she knocked on the door at the top, then pushed it open. The room was empty. "Gaius? Merlin?"

Still no answer came, so she turned to leave when that weird instinct took over again - a feeling that she could not explain - and for reasons unknown, she found herself drawn to the cupboard on the far side of the room, where Gaius kept all his tonics and remedies.

The old physician was very particular about the way his room was kept - you might not know it from looking at the stacks of books and sheets of parchment laid everywhere, along with the myriad of assorted instruments that dotted the desk and table in the centre of the room. But Dante knew that Gaius' room was 'ordered chaos'. He knew exactly where everything was, and although others might not see it, there was a structure to the way he stored everything. An order.

She, like so many others, could not even begin to understand this order, but she couldn't fail to notice that SOMETHING was very wrong with the cupboard of tiny glass bottles that she was now staring at. Something was wrong. She just could not work out what it could be.

"May I help you, child?" Gaius asked politely from the doorway, and Dante jumped, spinning to face him.

"Yes...yes you can," she smiled, relieved. "Something's wrong with your cupboard, but I can't work out what."

"My cupboard?" the physician frowned, walking over to join her. "What on earth are you talking about, my girl? And what happened to your lip?"

"Argument with a door," Dante said quickly, attempting to shrug it off.

"And your voice?"

"Inhaled some dust?" She offered, although Gaius didn't look convinced. She decided to change the subject before he pressed the matter further. "But what I meant was...it's not your cupboard as such. Just the things inside it." She pointed towards all the small bottles. "This is all wrong."

Gaius seemed to take offence by that. "I assure you, Milady, that everything is as it should be. I do not presume to tell you how to do your job, and I kindly ask that you do not do the same to me."

"Oh no, no, no! That's not what I meant!" Dante started quickly, realising her mistake. "What I meant was, there's something different, and I can't put my finger on what it might be. I just get this feeling that something's missing. But I can't explain how I'd even know."

Still not convinced, Gaius leaned forward to take stock of the inventory. Then he frowned and began to pull the bottles out to look at their labels properly.

"It would seem," he said as he examined the last bottle. "That you are right. The hemlock is missing."

"Hemlock?" Dante repeated thoughtfully. "That's poison, right?"

"It is," Gaius nodded. "I use it in very small doses as a sedative, but get the quantity wrong and it can be fatal. I fear that whoever has taken it, intends to use it for the latter."

"But why would anyone - " Dante started, and then stopped. All the colour drained from her face as a terrifying thought crossed her mind. Morgana had given in far too easily. She'd said she would free Gwen from the Fomorroh and return her unharmed, just like that. No arguments. And after she'd spent so many years plotting against Arthur. Now, all of a sudden she was going to let him live, just because her cousin had said please? Why had Dante been so quick to believe her?!

"Oh I am so stupid!"

"What is it?" Gaius asked worriedly as Dante hurried for the door.

"Call the guards!" She called back as she threw the door open. "Arthur's in danger!"

And without further explanation, she was gone. Gaius quickly placed all the bottles back in his cupboard, shut the door then hurried from the room as well. He had no idea how Dante knew that Arthur was in danger. But knowing who Dante consorted with, and their feelings towards Arthur, Gaius had no intention of ignoring her warnings now. If she said the King was in danger, then he was inclined to believe her.

...

"Arthur!" Dante yelled as she banged both fists on his door. "ARTHUR! Open up!"

The door was locked, she'd tried already. Now she was hoping that perhaps she wasn't too late and the King was safely in his room. Though with each passing second this looked less and less likely.

"ARTHUR! GWEN! OPEN THIS DOOR!"

When still no answer came, Dante cast all about furiously for someone to help her. But she was alone in the corridor. So, taking a deep breath, she braced herself, then charged shoulder first into the door...

And rebounded off it again, howling in pain and clutching her shoulder. The solid oak door hadn't budged, but she'd definitely heard some sort of crack. But what had cracked? The wood of the door? Or bone of her shoulder?

She was beginning to think the latter as she doubled over, fighting back tears of pain and trying hard not to give this pain a voice, when there came a heavy thud from inside the room - as though something or someone had fallen. This was followed by a loud clatter that sounded suspiciously like silverware - plates, cups and cutlery - being spilled across a table and onto the floor.

Bracing herself against the pain once more, she stood up, took a deep breath and rammed her shoulder again and again into the door until finally it gave way completely and she fell through, staggering under the sudden surprise of the door no longer being there. And then she surveyed the room frantically, already knowing that it was too late.

Gwen was standing over Arthur, a small vial of something in her hand. The King was slumped in his seat, as white as a sheet, his chest barely moving as he succumbed to the effects of the poison. His goblet of wine had spilled across the table and onto the floor, along with the rest of the contents of the table, and there was a very satisfied smirk across Gwen's face as she looked down upon him.

"Damn it Gwen!" Dante cried as she ran to the King, crouching in front of him and reaching up under his chin to check his pulse. It was very weak. He didn't have long. "How much did you give him?"

"No point using half measures," Gwen shrugged as she placed the empty bottle of poison on the table in front of Dante. "The King is dead."

"Not yet he isn't," Dante growled as she glanced towards the door. Heavy booted footsteps were running her way. The guards were coming, and if they saw the scene, Gwen would be arrested.

Without a King or a Queen, Albion would be lost, and Morgana would claim the throne with ease. Dante couldn't allow that. Gwen could not take the fall for this. It wasn't really her who had done it, after all. It was the Fomorroh and Morgana's poisonous words that had. And Dante should have known this would happen. She should have stopped it before it ever went this far.

Arthur was dying, and it was all her fault. The terrible aching throb in her shoulder was not a big enough price to be paid, considering she could have stopped this from ever happening. There was only one price that would sufficiently pay for her stupidity.

So she did the only thing she could do.

She stood and grabbed the ceramic vase of flowers from the table, spinning and cracking it hard round Gwen's head. The vase shattered upon impact and water, flowers and shards of vase flew in all directions as Gwen crumpled to the floor, unconscious - a thin trickle of blood running down her forehead.

"I'm sorry," Dante muttered as she threw down the remaining shard of vase. "I'm so sorry."

Then she picked up the vial of poison and moved to stand over Arthur, just as the guards finally poured into the room, followed by Gaius, Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table.

Leon took one look at the situation - a dying Arthur slumped in his chair, an unconscious Gwen lying prone on the floor, the shattered lock of the oak door and the remnants of the shattered vase strewn beside Gwen...and then finally to Dante, who was standing over the king clutching her shoulder and something else, her lip still bleeding a little from Morgana's earlier anger, and her throat starting to bruise from Mordred's magical assault.

In short, it was clear that she had been in a fight recently. And Leon, taking another look of disbelief about the destruction in the room, decided there must be only one explanation.

"Step away from the King, Milady."

She obediently did as she was told, holding her hands up in surrender (whilst also clearly displaying the bottle's label for Gaius and Merlin to see). Gaius crouched down in front of Arthur's chair and examined him quickly.

"Poison," he said out loud, pretending to take an 'educated' guess when he already knew the answer, thanks to Dante. "Hemlock, I'd say."

"Lady Dante?" Leon asked suspiciously, taking the bottle from Dante's hand and seeing that it was indeed hemlock. "Where did you get this?"

She could so easily have told him the truth - told him that Gwen was the culprit and Dante had merely arrived to find the King already succumbing to the effects of the poison. But she didn't. She made the hardest decision she would ever have to make.

"In Gaius' chambers," she lied.

"Did you poison the King?" Leon asked uneasily, as though he were afraid of the answer. "Did you attack the Queen?"

Guards had already moved to surround Dante on all sides, as though already suspecting her answer. She looked from them, over to Percival who refused to meet her gaze, then to Leon. Gwaine was in the room, but she refused to look at him in case her resolve crumbled and she could not go through with it. He was staring at her in utter disbelief, and it was painful for her to ignore him. But she did it, for her own good. And for his.

Looking Leon squarely in the eye, she took a deep breath, and sealed her fate.

"I poisoned Arthur's wine. When Gwen found out, she tried to stop me, so I attacked her with a vase of flowers."

"Arrest her," Leon sighed, looking away in disgust as the guards closest to her seized her arms whilst the others drew their swords. She didn't protest or even put up a fight - although she did yelp as one of the men dug his fingers a little too harshly into her wounded shoulder.

And then she simply allowed them to lead her from the room. As she reached the door, however, she dug her heels in and looked back, catching Gaius' eye.

"Fomorroh," she had just enough time to say, before the guards tugged her sharply and she was forced out of the room completely, surrounded by an armed escort that would take her to the cells down below.

"Fomorroh?" Merlin repeated quietly. "Is she trying to tell us she's the victim of one of those creatures?"

"I don't think she's the victim," Gaius replied quietly. "Her whole attitude's all wrong."

"Will they be alright?" Elyan interrupted, cutting off all further conversation between the physician and the warlock as he crouched over his sister.

"Your sister has suffered a mild concussion - nothing more. A few days rest and she'll be right as rain again," Gaius assured him. "Arthur, however, I'm not so sure about. Merlin, I'll need my bag, quickly."

"Of course," Merlin nodded, springing to his feet and sprinting from the room.

"Why would she do this?" Tristan spoke aloud the question that everyone was thinking as Percival scooped Arthur up in his arms, whilst Elyan picked up Gwen. The two knights carried the King and Queen over to the bed and laid them reverently, side by side.

"They were her friends! What has she gained out of all this, except her own death sentence?!"

"I'm afraid I cannot say what she was thinking," Gaius replied as he set to work, healing the pair. "Isn't that your job to find out? And now I need to do mine. So I'll need some space to work."

"Of course," Leon nodded, turning to the other knights. "We'll wait outside."

Once the troupe of knights had left, Gaius moved round to Gwen, gently rolling her onto her side so that he could examine the back of her neck. And there he saw the familiar telltale sign of a Fomorroh head writhing about beneath her skin.

So Dante had known about the Fomorroh? Which would mean it had either been a lucky guess, or...

"Oh dear," he said to himself as suddenly everything fell into place, and he understood completely, what must have happened.

Dante was either very brave, very foolish, or a good measure of both. Whatever she was, he'd suddenly, in those few seconds, discovered that he had a whole newfound respect for the young woman and the huge sacrifice she'd just made for the kingdom.

"We have a very big problem," he said to Merlin as the young warlock ran back into the room.

"You think?" Merlin retorted, dumping the bag beside the physician and setting to work preparing the antidote. "Arthur's dying, Gwen's been attacked and Dante's just confessed to it all!"

"Yes. To cover for the Queen."

Merlin's head snapped up sharply. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"Gwen is being controlled by the Fomorroh. If she had been found guilty of either causing Arthur's murder, or at least his attempted murder, she would have been executed. Arthur would never forgive himself if that happened...and Dante knew it."

"So she's taken the blame, to save their marriage," Merlin realised.

"Not just their marriage, Merlin. Their lives," Gaius corrected. "Dante's selfless actions have just saved the lives of both the King AND the Queen."

"At the cost of her own," Merlin sighed sadly, now understanding everything just as Gaius understood it. "What do we do? We can't let her die, Gaius. She's innocent!"

"And how will we explain that to the King?" Gaius replied. "Arthur will want to hold someone accountable. Dante knew that Gwen was going to poison him, so how would she explain how she knew, unless she was already in on the plot in the first place. Which will reveal that she has been working with Morgana, and she will be tried for treason. The penalty for treason is also execution. So no matter what she does now, Dante is, I'm afraid to say, destined to die by Arthur's hand. Either for attempted murder, or for treason."

"So there's nothing we can do?" Merlin asked incredulously. "No. No I don't believe that for one second! Surely there must be some way we can help her?"

"There's nothing we can do for her," Gaius sighed. "All we can do is hope that Arthur survives and we were not too late."

"And destroy the Fomorroh controlling Gwen and hope that Arthur listens to reason when he comes round," Merlin added. "Though somehow I don't think that's going to happen."

He began to administer the antidote to the King anyway, wondering if they were truly too late after all. Either way, somebody would die as a result of what had happened this evening, but who would it be? Dante, or Arthur? He honestly could not bear to lose either of them, but he knew now that one of them had to be lost, to save the other. And he also knew who that someone would be.


	22. Gwaine and Morgana - Round 2

**Author Note: Well after a spell of writer's block, I'm back again, and I can safely say that we are now entering the final furlong. Dante's story will soon be ending...but before it does, she has one last battle left to fight. The only question is...will she survive? And will everyone else?**

**So here's 2 more chapters to wet your appetites, hehe.**

**oOo**

Merlin waited for what felt like an eternity outside Morgana's chambers before finally the witch emerged and headed off in the direction of the dungeons - looking rather anxious, Merlin was surprised to see as he hid behind one of the tapestries in an alcove nearby.

Why was she anxious? Was it because she was afraid that Dante might spill everything about her plans? Or was she afraid because Dante had been caught and this was not part of the plan? No matter the reason, Morgana left her chambers in a hurry, not even bothering to lock her door as she did so.

It was a piece of cake for Merlin to walk in, therefore, take the covered jar from the table (after a brief search of the whole room) and walk out again. He didn't break into a run, however, until he was sure that there was nobody around to see him. Then he sprinted back towards Arthur's bedchambers, clutching the glass jar and it's angry, hissing and spitting contents, carefully to his chest.

"Did you get it?" Gaius asked as the young warlock hurried in and placed the jar triumphantly on the table beside the fire.

"No problem at all," Merlin nodded. "Morgana was on her way to the dungeons, I think. She seemed quite worried about something."

"Probably the fact her cousin is currently locked up down below, facing an almost certain death at some point in the very near future."

"You really think Morgana cares about Dante?" Merlin pondered as Gaius stepped back away from Gwen, clutching something with a pair of tongs. Merlin shuddered when he saw the head of the Fomorroh, remembering all too well the time Morgana had unleashed it upon him.

"Morgana is incredibly fond of the girl," the physician replied as he walked over to the fire and tossed the head into the flames. It hissed and spat, writhing and thrashing, before falling still. Merlin removed the lid of the glass jar and tipped the rest of the Fomorroh onto the flames, also.

Then he held his hand out and muttered "Ontende þisne wyrm þæt he licgeþ unastyred_ '_a butan ende."

The pair watched the creature as it perished in the flames, then turned back to Gwen. Gaius had stitched up the small incision at the back of her neck, and now she was sleeping peacefully, a small contented smile playing across her lips. At least she was out of danger now.

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked eventually, as he watched Gaius administer some more tonic to the deathly white King, trying to coax life back into him.

"About what?" Gaius asked with a frown.

"About Morgana? How do you know she cares for her cousin?"

"She has had ample opportunities to kill Dante before now and has always held back. Dante is not exactly the easiest person in the world to get along with, after all. She has a way of ruffling feathers, and she's certainly ruffled Morgana's more than once, it would seem. Yet do you remember, back in Ealdor when Dante was stabbed?"

Merlin nodded, trying to think back to so long ago. It felt like a lifetime ago that had happened, when really it could only have been four years, at most.

"Morgana was ready to kill Arthur and his men without a second's thought. Yet as soon as Dante took that blade to the chest, Morgana panicked and retreated."

"Because her plan had gone wrong," Merlin replied, not seeing the point to Gaius' attempted explanation.

"Yes, but Morgana thrives on spontaneity. She enjoys making things up as she goes along - always has done. Why didn't she just act upon the moment, defeat Arthur and take Dante back to be cared for by herself? Why let Arthur live and allow him to heal Dante instead?"

"Because Morgana was living in a hovel," Merlin shrugged, still not seeing the point.

"Exactly!" Gaius nodded. "She did not have the means to help her cousin, so she let Arthur do it instead, knowing that he would be able to save her. She failed to save Morgause after all, perhaps she was afraid she would not be able to save Dante either."

"Still doesn't explain why you think she adores Dante though," Merlin protested.

"Oh honestly, boy, do you have a brain in there?" Gaius exclaimed, rapping Merlin sharply on the forehead. "Dante is Morgana's family. The only family she will willingly acknowledge. Do you remember the only other family she ever willingly acknowledged?"

"Morgause," Merlin replied as he rubbed his forehead gingerly. "And Gorlois."

"Exactly," Gaius nodded again. "She loved them. She acknowledged them as her family. She acknowledges Dante as family. Therefore...?"

"She loves her," Merlin finally saw the whole point and grinned. Gaius let out a long sigh of relief at that, although he was a little frustrated that it had taken Merlin so long to see his point.

Still, Merlin was more than a little biased towards Morgana these days, so perhaps it wasn't his fault that he could only see the bad in her. He, like so many others, would only judge her on her actions now. He could barely remember the person she had once been, or the person she still was, deep down under all those layers of bitchy evilness that had built up over the years.

Dante had seen a glimmer of this person in her cousin. Why else would she had stuck with her this long, otherwise?

But she might well have been the only one. And now Morgana was going to once again lose the one person she truly cared about, thanks to Arthur. That would only serve to further fuel Morgana's hatred towards her brother - it would give her reason to fight back and destroy him once and for all - from within the city walls themselves.

...

Having successfully delivered a sleeping draught to the guards on duty, Morgana had no trouble slipping into the dungeons to search for her cousin. The entire cell block was dark and fittingly gloomy as she passed each cell, scanning its occupants for signs of her cousin. Dante's Saxon manservant was there - being held for aiding Dante in her attempts to kill the king, he told her when she briefly paused to quiz him. He insisted he was innocent, but Morgana didn't care. He was a Saxon. The Saxons had tortured her for three long years. She hated them all.

So she left him where he was, making a mental not to insist that if Arthur did not get rid of him, then Dante should, as soon as this whole mess was cleared up.

The other cells she passed contained a few petty thieves, a rustler or two and a pair of bandits, each waiting for a trial before the King. Dante was not amongst them either.

Eventually Morgana came upon the last cell in the entire block and hoping that she would see a familiar face within, she stepped up to the bars.

Dante was sitting in the far corner, cross legged, twiddling a bit of straw in her fingers. She did not look up at Morgana's approach. She didn't even look up when Morgana cleared her throat.

"Dante?" Morgana eventually spoke, breaking the silence.

And finally, Dante glanced up, her glare icy and hostile as she regarded her cousin. "Come to gloat?" she spoke, her voice heavy with sarcasm and scorn. "I bet Mordred's loving all this."

"He is...not entirely unloving the situation, I'll admit," Morgana nodded sadly. "It seems your little stunt has stolen all the attention, leaving him free from suspicion for the time being."

"Hooray for him," Dante snarled.

"Has Gwaine been down to see you yet?"

"He's been banned from seeing me. Apparently our past makes him a suspected accomplice. He's got to stay away until he can prove his name is clear."

"The knights suspect one of their own?"

"They had no reason to suspect me until an hour ago. Now they don't know who to trust."

There was silence for a moment as Morgana nodded, taking this in. Then she sighed.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, placing a hand on the bars, surreptitiously testing them for any signs of weakness. "You could have let Gwen kill Arthur and be arrested. She could have been here in your place. Why did you interfere?"

"You changed the rules of the game," Dante retorted, throwing down the piece of straw and drawing her knees up so she could rest her chin on them.

"What rules?" Morgana frowned.

"Exactly! You told me that you would let Arthur live, then went behind my back and tried to have him killed anyway! I warned you what would happen if you made an enemy of him, but you didn't listen. You never do!"

It was painfully obvious to Morgana now that Dante hated her. She utterly detested her and wanted nothing further to do with her. The fact that she'd turned her back to the witch as much as the chains round her wrist would allow her, seemed to confirm this. But if that still wasn't enough, she made sure that Morgana quickly got the hint.

"Leave me alone Morgana! It's your fault I'm here, so why don't you get lost before I tell everyone what really happened?!"

"I don't understand why you haven't already," Morgana snapped, feeling her own temper rising. She didn't like being cast away...to be shunned by those she'd always loved and cared for. It had happened too often in her short lifetime, and yet she still hadn't grown used to that terrible feeling of loneliness and hurt whenever another person turned their back on her.

Dante glanced back, and if looks could kill, Morgana would have died a thousand times over, then.

"I guess you'll never understand about the rules of being a family," she grumbled at last, turning away again. "Blood is thicker than water, Morgana. You're still my family, and I'll never betray you. Not when you're doing a good enough job of it yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that one of these days, your past will catch up to you. All your plotting and your scheming will crumble around you, and when it does, you'll die at the hands of those you once loved. And when that happens, you'll have no-one to blame but yourself. I tried to warn you, but you ignored me, and now you've lost your one true friend. I believed in you when no-one else did, Morgana. I'm the reason you're here, in the Citadel now. I promised Arthur you had changed. I promised him you weren't the evil sister he had perceived you to be, but merely a misunderstood young woman who needed help and guidance. I insisted there was good in you still! But it seems I was wrong."

"Dante, please don't do this," Morgana begged. "Don't shut me out! I'm begging you!"

Date froze. Had Morgana just begged? She'd actually just begged?!

It was so tempting to turn back then, just to see this momentous and completely unexpected situation. But she didn't. She held her ground and stubbornly refrained from looking at her cousin.

"Leave me alone," she sighed. "I've got nothing more to say to you."

And if Morgana's begging had surprised her, what Morgana did next was even more of a shock.

"I'll make this right, Dante," she muttered quietly into the darkness. "I got you into this mess and I'm going to get you out. I promise."

And, her curiosity getting the better of her this time, Dante finally turned. But Morgana was already gone.

What had she meant? What was she going to do?

"I have a bad feeling about this," she sighed, before resting her head against the cold stone of the dungeon wall and closing her eyes. There was no way she'd ever get any sleep down here, but the cold stone was at least helping to soothe her throbbing head a little.

...

Gwaine knew he wasn't allowed down to the dungeons, but he just had to know. Dante had never told him that this was part of the plan. As far as he'd known, he was to fight Mordred's champion, expose Mordred as the liar and the traitor that he was, and everything would work out fine.

So what the hell was Dante playing at? He just had to know. And if that meant sneaking into the dungeons to confront her, then so be it. He was willing to take the risk of being caught, just to know what was going on.

He successfully made it past the guards - they were asleep, the lazy sods - and was on his way down the corridor towards the cells when he saw Morgana coming towards him, lost in thought. Anger flared through him at the sight of her and he reached out, grabbing her wrist sharply as she moved to go past him.

She yelped in pain and surprise, spinning quickly to face him.

"What are you doing down here?" He growled, leaning over her, threatening her with his height and intimidating her with his low, angry voice. Or at least he would have, if Morgana had been a lesser woman, more easily frightened by the world around her.

Quickly overcoming her shock, she fixed him with an angry glare and tried to snatch her wrist away. He held on firmly, and the more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. So instead she glared him right in the eye, holding his gaze, which unnerved him and made him blink uncomfortably.

"Visiting my cousin," she said at length, answering his question.

"She doesn't want anything to do with you," he growled again, dragging her into an alcove as the drowsy guards whom she had knocked out, earlier, finally started to come round.

"Yes, she made that perfectly clear," Morgana spat, trying once again to pull her wrist free. But still he held on stubbornly.

"You sound surprised? You got her into this mess, in case you had forgotten!" he accused, tightening his grip. "Now I've got to try and find some way of getting her out of it! Because I will not lose her again!"

"And neither will I, you stupid fool!" She spat back in retaliation. "If you'd given me half a chance to explain, you'd have known that I intend to do everything in my power to help her," she retorted, and the shock of her words finally loosened his grip enough for her to pull free. She rubbed her wrist gently, feeling the scars beneath from her three year imprisonment, and also feeling the rapidly forming bruise already beginning to emerge over the top.

"So what are you going do?" His voice dropped low as the guards, assuming something suspicious had happened, ran into the cell block to check on their captives. They were so focussed on getting to the cells that they didn't pay the shadows and alcoves any mind at all, and both Gwaine and Morgana went unnoticed.

Once they were gone, Gwaine grabbed Morgana's shoulder and forcefully pushed her from the alcove, then marched her up the stairs and away from the dungeons.

When they were back out in one of the deserted corridors of the Citadel, he spun her round to face him. "Well?" he pressed, digging his fingers into her shoulder even harder.

She winced, gritted her teeth against the pain and fixed him with a steely glare, but said nothing.

"See, part of me wants to believe that you're gonna go and help Gaius to heal Arthur, then confess that this was all your doing, and that Dante is innocent. But...well, you're an evil bitch, so I know you'd never do anything so selfless."

"And that is why you remain stupid, arrogant and blind," she spat, grabbing the hand that gripped her shoulder and digging her thumb into the soft flesh of the underside of his wrist, in just the right spot so that he was forced to loosen his grip. Then she removed it firmly from her shoulder. "I'm beginning to believe Dante may be the only one who truly knows me."

"Yes, and look where it's gotten her!" He roared angrily, shoving her back against the stone pillar behind her and pressing his forearm across her throat instead, threatening to choke her - his anger finally let loose, which surprised Morgana slightly. Gwaine had always been able to control his temper with incredible discipline. To see him let it loose now was more than a little terrifying, but she wasn't as scared as she perhaps should have been.

She did have magic on her side, after all.

"Unhand me," she spoke slowly, and her voice was laced with deadly intent. He didn't move immediately to do as she said, but when he felt something press against his chest, he looked down to see her hand resting just above his heart.

"Unhand me," she said again. "Or I promise, you will not see another sunrise."

"At least then I'll be with Dante," he replied, although he did as she asked, regardless, not wanting to tempt fate. She did not need weapons to harm him, after all.

"Not if I can help it," she told him, standing away from the pillar and rearranging and smoothing the folds of her dress so that it sat more naturally about her form once more. "At the beginning of the Saxon Wars, I was prepared to put my past differences with Arthur aside for the sake of a common enemy that we both shared. I now extend that offer to you. We both want to help Dante. Neither of us wants to see her die. Let us combine forces to ensure this does not happen."

"I'll never work with you," he glared, backing away as if the very prospect of such an offer offended him.

"Then Dante will die," Morgana stated simply. She turned to walk away, leaving that thought to linger between them.

She had taken no more than ten paces, however, before Gwaine took a deep breath and called out to her, against his better judgement. "What do you propose, witch?"

"Firstly, do not call me 'witch'," she said, looking back over her shoulder. "Secondly, come with me if you want to save your girlfriend."

He paused a moment longer, weighing up his options. Then, deciding he had nothing to lose and everything to gain, once more went against his better judgement and followed her back to her chambers.


	23. Dante's Fate Is Decided

Arthur was asleep. He knew he was, because he could see his father, standing in front of him, holding his arms out lovingly towards his son. Uther had never shown that kind of behaviour towards him in life - not in public at least - so this must be a dream, he reasoned to himself. Besides, if that wasn't reason enough to believe this wasn't real, then how about the fact that his father was dead, and had been for several years?

So yes, this was most definitely a dream. But not an unpleasant one, either.

Morgana appeared at some point, though he didn't remember her making an appearance. One moment she was not there, the next she was, simply appearing from nowhere. Considering this was a dream, he wasn't surprise.

She was dressed in the fine clothes of a Lady of the Court and was younger than he remembered her to be now. She was also wearing her old, familiar smile of warmth and love. This was the Morgana he remembered from back in the 'good old days' when she'd been a loving ward of his father and a loyal Lady of the Court.

Gwen was there, too, in her old, familiar place beside Morgana. His dear, sweet Gwen. How he longed to hold her again.

The images dissolved around him to be replaced with a sandy beach and crystal clear waters of the ocean. There were no oceans like this anywhere near Camelot, as far as he knew, so a distant part of his mind wondered where this place actually was.

Glancing down, he realised that he was now riding his bay stallion and Gwen was beside him, astride a grey mare. They galloped together, side by side through the surf and the sprays of water made Gwen laugh. Arthur laughed along with her, enjoying the sense of freedom and peace that he felt at that moment.

But then it all come crashing down as something dragged him back into darkness, away from his beloved wife. He tried to struggle, tried to reach out for her, but she vanished into the darkness, calling his name. He floated for a moment, lost in the limbo of darkness, before he heard someone calling his name again. A man, this time.

His eyes flickered open to see Gaius and Merlin leaning over him, their faces stricken with worry. Somehow he knew that this was no dream. He was once more awake.

But it wasn't exactly the kind of sight he'd been hoping to see after such a wonderful dream, and he started in surprise, crying out in alarm. Merlin and Gaius both jumped back in equal shock, before Gwen's voice from somewhere to his left called his name again. Tilting his head to the side, he could see her sitting beside him on the bed, holding his hand in one of her own. And he smiled.

THAT was what he'd wanted to see.

"Welcome back," she grinned, leaning over to kiss him tenderly. Now he knew that he was where he belonged. The memory of the dream was already fading, and he didn't even bother trying to recall any of it. Gwen was here with him, and that was all he cared about as he kissed her back, one hand reaching up to gently cradle the back of her neck and hold her to him.

It could not last, though, and she finally pulled back. That was when he noticed the healing cut and slight bruising across her temple. He raised a finger to delicately probe it.

"Who...?" He asked, his voice hoarse. He coughed, worked his tongue to try and wet his dry mouth, then tried again. "Who hurt you, my love?"

"The same person who poisoned you," Gwen said softly as she took a cup of water from Gaius and held it to his lips. After a few sips he nodded and she removed it, handing it back to Gaius who set it on the table beside the bed.

Arthur's brows knitted in confusion as her words finally registered. "What?"

"You were poisoned, Sire," Gaius took over the explanation.

"By who?" Arthur frowned.

"Arthur," Merlin started uneasily, speaking for the first time. "I'm afraid you're not going to like the answer."

"By who?" The King asked again more forcefully as he propped himself up on his elbows to stare at his manservant.

Merlin looked to the others, who looked equally as uneasy, then took a deep breath and sighed.

"Dante."

"Dante?!" Arthur asked, incredulous. Then he laughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I wish it were," Gwen sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's in the cells now. She's confessed to it already."

The strength left Arthur's arms then and he fell back into the mound of pillows with a loud groan. "Why would she...?"

"We don't know, sire," Gaius said quietly. "The men wanted her executed straight away, but I convinced them to wait until you were recovered. If there's anyone who can get answers out of her, it's you."

"What has Gwaine had to say about all of this?"

"He hasn't been seen since her arrest," Merlin added. "A lone figure was reported to have left the Citadel, the night you were poisoned, and the guards gave chase, but whoever it was gave them the slip. Gwaine has not been seen since Dante's arrest and had he not been with the others in the barracks when the alarm was raised, the suspicion would have fallen upon him instead."

"Gwaine would never do such a thing," Arthur protested, closing his eyes and rubbing the sides of his temples in slow circles. Gwen's fingers found his, then took over, and he finally felt himself begin to relax.

"Many thought the same of Dante, at one time," she sighed as she finally took her fingers away and he opened his eyes once more.

After a moment of consideration, he finally sat up slowly, with a little help from Gwen and Merlin to either side of him. "Fetch my clothes, Merlin," he said at last. "I need to speak to Dante."

"Sire, you're in no fit state to go down to the dungeons right now," Gaius protested as Merlin went to the wardrobe and began pulling out shirts and jackets. "You need to rest!"

"Then I'll rest in my throne and she can be brought to me," Arthur sighed, having no energy to get angry just then. "If I am to sentence her, it needs to be official, in front of the court anyway. An unofficial sentence might catch the attention of her father, and the last time I looked, he had a small army at his disposal. Plus he's one of Lot's citizens. We need to avoid Lot at all costs."

"As you wish, Sire," Gaius nodded. "I'll summon the council then, shall I?"

"Please do," Arthur nodded as Gwen took a comb from the bedside and began to run it through his mess of hair. "And have Percival escort Dante up, when I am ready."

"Of course, Sire," the physician bowed, then turned and left. Arthur sighed and turned to his wife.

"Why did she strike you?" he asked quietly with a frown, touching the cut on her forehead again.

Gwen shrugged. "I'm sure I can't say. In all honesty, I don't remember anything about what happened."

"Then how did the guards know it was Dante?"

"She was standing over our..." Gwen faltered, then tried again. "She was standing over us, when the guards came. She admitted there and then, in front of them all."

"Maybe she was covering for someone?" Arthur mused. "But who?"

"You'll have time enough to ask her soon," Gwen said gently, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for all of this."

"I'm sure there is," Arthur nodded as Merlin finally came back with an arm full of clothes. "But I get the feeling I won't like it."

...

For three days and three nights, Dante remained chained to the wall of her cell, with only a mouse for company. He had appeared an hour or so after Morgana had left, and at first Dante had tried to shoo him away, disgusted to be sharing her cell with such a filthy creature, full of disease. He'd scurried back through the hole in the wall and immediately she'd regretted it. Who was she to hold herself any higher than he, at that moment in time?

She, the traitor, who was chained to the wall like an animal and had been left in darkness to await her fate. She, who had tried to kill the king, and deserved this fate.

_ But I didn't try to kill him, _she reminded herself angrily at one point. _I was saving him! I don't deserve this!_

But then another voice had spoken up, in her subconscious, and it was a voice she recognized immediately. It was her father's voice.

_ When you first arrived in Camelot, you sought to overthrow Arthur and see Morgana returned to the throne. Had you forgotten that?_

And to her horror, she realised it was true. Before she'd come to know Arthur and realise what a good man he was, she'd plotted with Morgana to usurp him. She'd WANTED him dead, so that the woman she believed to be the just and rightful ruler of Camelot could take her place instead.

How times had changed, since then! Dante's time in Camelot had certainly done one thing to her. It had opened her eyes to the truths of the world. The REAL truth. The world was not simply black and white, as she'd foolishly believed. There were not just good guys and bad guys with a definitive line between them, separating them. There were actually so many shades of grey, it was hard to keep track - so many people doing the right things for the wrong reasons, or the wrong things for the right reasons - each and every one believing that they were in fact right and those who opposed them were wrong.

It was all so confusing, trying to make sense of it all that in the end she didn't even bother trying.

She'd started her life in Camelot believing the word of a woman she had only recently met, just because she'd saved her life. This woman - Morgana - had led her to believe that Arthur was evil, cruel and corrupt. Removing him and his equally evil wife from their thrones was the right thing to do, so that she could take over instead and rule the kingdom fairly and justly. Dante had been fooled by several things. Firstly she knew nothing of Arthur, so believing Morgana's lies about him was easy. Secondly, she owed Morgana her life. Why would she go against the woman who had saved her? And thirdly, Morgana had offered her power. Power unlike anything she'd ever known before. Dante had been young and foolish...and more than a little greedy.

Now she knew differently. She knew that Arthur was not a bad man at all. He was a fair, kind and just ruler, and so was Gwen. It was Morgana who was cruel and corrupt...though not without reason. Dante understood why Morgana had done the things she had. She had magic, and she was afraid. She just wanted to be accepted for who she was. She was one of those people doing the wrong things, but for the right reasons, it seemed to Dante. And despite the fact she should have felt angry with her cousin, she didn't. She merely felt great sympathy.

She had also been awarded great power, just as Morgana had promised her, but she'd also learned that with great power comes great responsibility - a responsibility she could not handle. She'd abused her privilege as First Lady of Camelot, she'd made many mistakes, and now it was all catching up to her.

In the past three days, she'd had nothing else to do but think about all this, and realise just how stupid she'd truly been. But at least she had not been alone.

The mouse had returned several times since she'd first shooed him off - usually when the guards brought her food. She'd become quite fond of the little fellow - he being her soul companion during the long periods of loneliness. She'd named him Bob, because of the way he would sit on his hind legs, bobbing his head up and down as he tried to catch the scent of whatever it was he was smelling at the time. At first he wouldn't come near her, he'd stay by the wall and she'd throw small crusts of bread in his direction - probably wary that she'd try to shoo him off again, as she had done the first time. Soon, however, he'd become more confident around her, until by the third evening, he was taking food from her hand and running up her arm to sit on her shoulder, where he'd sit nibbling the crust of bread, or the lump of cheese, or whatever else she fancied sharing with him at the time.

"I've messed up big time, Bob," she sighed as he sat on her shoulder on the fourth morning since her imprisonment, holding the lump of cheese in his tiny paws and taking delicate nibbles of it. "And there's so many things I wanted to do before I died. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be a wife. I wanted to dance under the moonlight on a midsummer's evening with the man I love...don't laugh, I did!...Oh yes, you can poke fun, Mister. Haven't you ever dreamed of doing the same? No, of course you haven't. You're probably too worried about where your next meal's coming from, or where the stable cat is..."

The mouse continued to eat his food, completely oblivious to the fact he was supposedly holding a conversation with her. And then he froze, sniffed the air, darted down her shoulder and bolted back for the whole in the wall. Dante strained against the chains as she tried to catch him and bring him back. "No! No don't go! Come back! Bob, don't go! Please don't -" The chains jerked her back roughly, and she yelped in pain, before tugging in a futile effort against them. "Aaargh! Damned chains! I hate you! Do you know how annoying you are?!"

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Percival grinned as he leaned against the cell door, watching her slump back against the wall in defeat, the chains rattling and clanking with each movement of her wrists, as if taunting her.

"For someone so big, you sure are a silent bugger," she grumbled, glaring back at him - her face flushed bright red - though whether this was out of embarrassment at being caught talking to herself, or from the impromptu wrestle with the unforgiving chains, he wasn't sure. "What do you want?"

"I came to give you the news," he said, straightening up, his face unreadable. She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, simply waiting.

"Arthur's awake," he said after a moment. "Gaius managed to counteract the poison and he says the King will live. Gwen is recovering well, too."

"Good. That's...well that's great!" She nodded, relieved. So Morgana's plan hadn't succeeded, after all. At least that was something.

"He sent me down here to fetch you," Percival spoke again as a guard with the keys stepped forward and unlocked the door to her cell. Then he walked over to the shackles round her wrists and undid them too. She rose unsteadily to her feet, trying to ease away the numbness and cramps that had worked their way into her legs after four days of being unable to get up and stretch. Then she rubbed her wrists gingerly, hobbling awkwardly over to the doorway where Percival was waiting.

He gave her a sympathetic look, holding up another pair of restraints.

"Really?!" She groaned.

"I'm afraid so," he nodded. "You tried to poison the King and attacked the Queen. They're taking no chances."

"Fair enough," she shrugged with a resigned sigh, holding out her hands. He winced when he saw the red raw skin from the shackles of the cell, and underneath those, the scars from long ago, when she'd pretended to be Lot's slave, in order to work her way into Camelot and gain Arthur' s sympathy.

The huge knight hesitated, waited until the other guard had gone back to his duties, then reached down and tore a strip from the bottom of his red cloak. Tearing the strip in half, he wound the material round one wrist before clamping the iron manacle over the top. Then he did the same to the other, before tucking the ends of the red material underneath to hide them.

Dante was surprised by this action and looked up at him with a quizzical frown as he took her by the shoulder and gently led her away, out of the dungeons.

"For what it's worth," he explained quietly as he escorted her back up into the bright daylight of the busy Citadel above, "I don't believe you're guilty, for one second."

"Thanks," she smiled, touched. To know that she still had at least one friend, even after everything, was a humbling thought indeed.

...

After four days in darkness, the bright sunny day was a shock to Dante, and she threw her arms up in front of her face in a feeble attempt to shield her eyes. That was when she realised how dirty they were - covered in grime and dirt from the dungeon floor. Glancing down at herself, she could see that it was not just her hands that were in a state - pretty much the rest of her looked a right royal mess, too.

"I don't suppose there's any chance I'd be allowed to clean myself up a bit first, is there?" she asked as she slowly, gingerly lowered her hands and squinted her eyes instead, trying to force them to adjust to the light.

"Sorry Danny, no can do," Percival sighed. "Arthur's orders were to bring you straight up from the dungeons. If you turned up all squeaky clean, he'll know I disobeyed him."

"I could say I shed dirt like a snake sheds it's skin?" She offered. Then thought a moment. "A snake? Huh, probably not the best animal I could compare myself to, right now."

"Are you intending on slipping through Arthur's grasp?" Percival asked suspiciously, giving her a sideways glance as he took her shoulder. Up until that point, he'd left her alone to walk by his side of her own free will. But now, a group of knights going out on patrol were coming towards them, and he had to keep up the pretence that she was being escorted.

"No Percy. I intend to tell him the truth," she replied, her head held high, chin stuck out in defiance as she walked past the knights, who paused to watch her with undisguised distrust and in some cases, even hatred.

"All of it?" Percival asked knowingly as they rounded a corner, out of sight of the knights and he let her go again.

"As much as I deem necessary for him to know, given the circumstances," she replied, not looking at him as they stopped outside the huge oak doors to the throne room where her trial was to take place.

Before Percival could question her further, however, the doors began to swing open.

"Percy, when we get in there, you'll have to throw me on the floor," she said quietly to him as they waited.

"What? No!"

"Gwaine is already under suspicion for helping me! Don't add your name to the list of suspects too! If anything were to happen to either of you on my behalf, I'd never forgive myself. Please Percy, play the role? For me?"

"I'll do what I can," he nodded, taking her shoulder and knowing that she was right. If he was going to help her, he had to keep up the appearance that he wasn't helping her - as twisted and confusing as that may have sounded.

So, he marched her in, towards the thrones, through the crowd of knights and assembled nobles. When they reached the front, he pressed firmly on her shoulder, forcing her down to her knees with a slight yelp. She'd been expecting him to shove her forward, and had prepared to catch herself on her hands. She hadn't expected to be almost flattened beneath the huge paw on her shoulders.

Glaring up at him, she bit back her colourful comment, then focussed her eyes back on Arthur and Gwen instead.

Gwen looked perfectly healthy and radiant as ever. Her curls of dark hair had been strategically twisted and shaped to hide the cut and bruising on her temple, and nobody would have known any different, to look at her now.

Arthur, on the other hand, wasn't so...healthy looking. He slumped in the throne, unable to even find the energy to sit up properly, and his skin was still chalky pale, his eyes hollow and lifeless. His clothes seemed baggier and more crumpled than usual, too, and his hair was a birds nest that had been hastily flattened into some sort of normality beneath his crown.

"Dante," he greeted with a nod of his head as she stared up at him, horrified by his appearance. She blinked a few times, then shook her head slightly as if waking from a dream, only now realising that he hadn't used any form of title when addressing her. So, he'd already decided to strip her of her title, regardless of whether she was innocent or not.

"My Lord," she replied, bowing her head to him and, knowing the protocol when in this kind of situation (having watched people being tried by Arthur many times) did not raise her head again until he addressed her once more. Even then, she did not make eye contact, but merely looked to his pale hands as they rested on the arms of the throne.

"Gaius tells me that I was poisoned and almost killed, three nights ago. Merlin informs me that Guinevere was attacked and rendered unconscious by this very same would-be assassin. And Sir Leon tells me that you have confessed to both crimes. What am I to make of all this?"

"Make of it what you will, Sire. My answer remains the same," Dante shrugged, affecting a nonchalant air. If he saw how truly terrified she was, he'd work at her until finally she cracked under the pressure and told him everything - the truth about her betrayal and her alliances with Morgana, Mordred and Lot. He would be even more devastated by these accusations than by the one he was laying at her feet right now.

"Your answer?" Arthur asked, finding the energy to sit himself up finally as he studied her. "To which question?"

"Am I the person you're after?"

"And are you?"

"I am."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Why did you do it, Dante?!" He banged a fist on the arm of his chair, causing several of the nobles, plus Dante, to flinch. Finally she looked up into his big blue eyes.

"You would never understand, Sire."

"Then help me! Help me to understand what's going on in that head of yours!" He exclaimed, frustrated by her whole attitude. Did she want to die? Because she was going the right way about it!

"What does it matter why I did it?" She asked finally. "Is it not enough for you that I've admitted to it? Can't you just accept my guilt and get it over with?"

"Are you so keen to die?" He asked softly, leaning forwards with his hands steepled in front of him, elbows resting on his knees.

"No, I'm not. But one way or another, I doubt I'll be alive tomorrow evening."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because I'm guilty. The punishment for my crime is death. You cannot escape that law any more than I can. The people expect you to be fair and just in your judgement. They will not take kindly to you letting me off because we are friends."

"So we are still friends?" He asked, eyebrows raised. "Because to me, the definition of a friend is not someone who poisons you."

There was a moment of silence then, and Merlin, standing in the front row beside Gaius, could feel eyes burning into the back of his head. Turning slightly, he saw Morgana scowling at him from the shadows, and knew that the comment about poisoning friends was a significant one for the two of them, also.

He did his best to ignore her and turned back, in time to hear Arthur sigh. Apparently Dante had refused to dignify that question with an answer.

"So where's Gwaine then?" He asked, changing tactics.

"In the castle?" Dante shrugged.

"Not anymore. He hasn't been seen since you were imprisoned."

"Well sorry to break this to you, sire, but I was down in the dungeons. Gwaine was not allowed to come see me, so how am I supposed to know where he's vanished to?"

Arthur frowned, wrong footed. He should have seen that one coming really. After all, his men had assured him that Gwaine had gone missing on the eve of her arrest. But then another thought came to mind.

"This could have been a premeditated attack. You and Gwaine planned it together, and when you were caught, Gwaine panicked and ran."

"Oh Gwaine usually runs at the first sign of trouble," Dante agreed with a nod. And then she smirked. "Right towards it, the stupid fool."

Arthur allowed a slight smile at this, knowing she was right. But then he quickly composed himself once more. "So you're saying that Gwaine had nothing to do with any of this? You're not covering for him?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. "If the silly bugger was stupid enough to get caught, I'd let him fend for himself. I'd never stick my neck on the line for him."

"Yet you're clearly sticking it on the line for someone," Arthur retorted, staring into her eyes, daring her to crack and reveal the truth to him. He could see that she so desperately wanted to. "Tell me who you're covering for."

"No-one."

"I know you, Dante Quincailan. You're not a killer. You'd never do this. I'm not believing it for one second. You're covering for someone else who would see me dead, and if my sources are correct, I believe it to be Morgana."

"What?!" Dante gasped, stunned. How the hell had he known?!

"Alright, so maybe not Morgana. But someone," he corrected, taking her outburst for an outraged protest. So it had been a guess then, apparently. Dante breathed a sigh of relief at that. For a moment there, she'd feared that he'd discovered her for who she truly was.

"Are you going to tell me who you're working for?" He pressed, once more.

"Myself," she managed to reply, although her calm composure had cracked under the panic of thinking she'd been caught in a lie.

"And why do you want me dead?"

"So that Lot may rule the whole of Albion."

"You did this for Lot? The man who stabbed you and left you for dead?" Arthur was unconvinced. Dante needed to end this now. He was getting too clever with his words, for her to keep up with all the lies. She was, of course, in no hurry to bring about her own death, but at the same time she just wanted this trial to be over with.

"Sorry to cut this short, Arthur," she said bluntly, getting back to her feet at last. "But I have a headache. Why don't you just chop it off?"

The entire room gasped at the sheer audacity of her statement, and Arthur blanched, staring in shock from Dante, to Gwen, then back again.

"Is that what you think? After everything? That I would execute you without a chance to redeem yourself?"

"You're offering me one last chance?" She asked with forced contempt as Leon and Percival stepped to either side of her, sensing that the situation was spiralling rapidly downhill. "One last chance to what? Confess to trying to poison you? Very well, I confess! I did it! It was me! I poured hemlock in your wine and smashed a vase round your wife's head! Is that what you wanted to hear, Arthur? Because that's all I have left to say!"

There was silence for a very long time then, before Arthur finally and shakily rose to his feet, a grim expression on his face.

"Give me a name, Dante. You were not alone in all this, so give me a name and I will spare your life. They can't help you now, so why protect them? Just give me their name."

Dante briefly considered speaking Mordred's name. He'd caused nothing but trouble from day one, and if she was going down, she may as well drag him with her. But even as she went to speak his name, she felt an odd tingling in her throat. No matter how hard she tried to say his name, she simply could not. And she knew why.

Mordred was standing in the crowd, not ten feet away. He could easily have cast some sort of spell to prevent her from speaking his name. She didn't know of such a spell that existed, but then neither had she known that sorcerers could strangle someone with but a mere thought, either. Anything was possible where magic was concerned.

So she gave up trying to name him as her accomplice, knowing it was a futile waste of her time and energy. Instead she looked to Arthur and said, "I have no name to give, other than my own."

"Then you leave me no choice," Arthur sighed. "Though it saddens me greatly to do so, I must charge you with treason and attempted murder." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and Dante felt her breath hitch in her throat. What had she done?!

But it was too late now. Too late to go back.

"Every person here present now knows the crimes for which you are guilty. Therefore, Dante Quincailan," Arthur spoke loudly and clearly, so the whole room could hear. "By the power vested in me and pursuant to the laws of the land, I hereby sentence you to death. At noon tomorrow, you will be taken from your cell...and hanged."

Nobody moved, or spoke, but a cold chill seemed to have filled the air. Or maybe it was just Dante. She suddenly felt as though she'd been plunged into a frozen lake - all the breath had been stolen from her.

Arthur nodded to Percival, who took her shoulder and turned her away, to lead her back to her cell. As she walked, she kept her head held high, refusing to let the tears fall, and refusing to look at anyone else in the room. As soon as the doors had closed behind her, however, she held back no longer.

The tears fell thick and fast, and she made no effort to hide them from the knight escorting her. He seemed not to have noticed, however, as he marched beside her, eyes kept firmly ahead of him, jaw set in grim determination.

Raising her chained hands to wipe the tears away with her sleeves, she glanced up at him and finally saw why he was making such a studious point of staring straight ahead as he walked.

His cheeks were slick and glistening in the candlelight.

He was crying, as well.

Dante had never seen a grown man cry before, let alone one as strong as Percival. She bowed her head and wept openly at the terrible, foolish mistake she'd made, but there was nothing she could say or do now.

"I'm sorry Percy," she sniffed at last, through her tears. He glanced down at her, doing his best to compose himself as he forced a smile.

"Hey, don't be sorry. I'm sure Arthur'll have a change of heart by morning. He'll realise there's been some terrible misunderstanding, and you'll be free again by lunchtime."

"I wish I shared your optimism," she sniffed again, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.

He wiped the tears from his own cheeks and offered a more convincing smile this time. "Gwaine's out there somewhere, probably cooking up some scheme to get you out of all this. You wait. He'll leave it till the last possible moment, because he likes to make a dramatic entrance. But he'll be there. He'll get you out of this."

"And if he's not?"

"I won't let you die, Dante. By my honour as a knight, I will not let you die tomorrow." And she knew that was a promise that he intended to keep.


	24. The Hangman's Noose

**Author Note: Well this is it...Dante's brought this all upon herself with some very poor decisions she's made over the past few years...but how will she act when faced with her own death, now? Will she go down fighting? Will she beg for mercy? Name and shame Morgana as her ally? Keep calm and carry on? **

**There's only one way to find out...**

...

The dawn sun rose upon Camelot with an eerily red glow, which Arthur knew was a bad omen, even as he stared at it from the battlements where he was now standing. The wind whipped his hair and stung his eyes, but he didn't mind, because if anyone saw him now, he could claim that the tears were from this - and not from his overwhelming grief at the horrendous task that lay before him, later that day.

Down in the courtyard, a scaffold had already been erected and a noose now hung down, swinging lightly in the breeze.

Around the scaffold, four guards had been posted, to ensure that nobody could tamper with it or destroy it and prolong the execution, and along all the battlements, archers were already arriving at their posts, quivers full and bows slung over their shoulders.

Arthur turned his back on the courtyard and took a deep breath. In a few hours, he would be standing on the balcony opposite, alongside Gwen - the pair of them watching as the rope was placed around the neck of the one person he had never in a million years dreamed would ever deserve such a fate.

Wiping his eyes with the back of one hand and taking several deep, calming breaths, he composed himself for a moment, before turning and walking back inside. Keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone he came across, he made his way down to the dungeons.

"Leave us," he told the guards outside her cell, and dutifully, they did. Slipping inside and pulling the door closed behind him, Arthur looked upon Dante, who was sitting in the farthest corner, her knees drawn up to her chest, and her chin resting atop them. She looked downright miserable, and the blackness under her eyes told him that he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept, that night.

"How are you faring?" He asked at length, when she did not look directly at him. Her cheeks were wet but she no longer wept - all her tears had been shed and she could cry no more, even if she'd wanted to.

"I..." She started, then paused and shook her head. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way." He sighed. Why was he being so nice to her? She was a convicted criminal. If she'd been some great hulking thug who'd murdered a dozen people, he'd not be thinking twice about how she was feeling. But she wasn't. She was Lady Dante - First Lady of Camelot. She was his friend. Or at least she HAD been, once upon a time...so he'd thought.

Still, the last thing his conscience needed was for him to be cruel and harsh to her in her last few hours upon this earth.

"It's not your fault," Dante shrugged, looking away. Her voice was hoarse and raw with emotion, and she could not even hold his gaze or look him in the eye. "You're just doing your duty. I'd be disappointed if you weren't."

He stood there in the painful silence for several minutes then, wondering what he could say or do. What did ANYONE do in a situation like this? In the end, he decided to go before his resolve got the better of him and he changed his mind.

As he reached the cell door, however, Dante called to him, looking at him for the first time since his arrival in the cell.

"Arthur? May I ask one last thing of you?"

"Of course," he nodded, stepping through the door and closing it behind him, turning to look at her as the jailer locked it with a resounding clang and a great jangle of keys. Arthur waited until he'd stepped back once more, then said, "Name your terms."

He had expected her to beg for mercy, or ask his forgiveness, or something similar along those lines, and in the few brief moments that it took her to compose her reply, he hardened his heart, telling himself that begging was a sign of weakness and cowardice, and that he was right to be doing what he was.

When she did eventually reply, however, his heart shattered into a million pieces from her request.

"Will you save my mother?"

"What?" He rasped, choked by his own sudden flare of emotion.

" I recently found out that she is a slave of Odin, and I was intending to free her as soon as I had the chance. Now I will never have that chance. Please Arthur...will you free her and return her to my father instead?"

"I...ah...of...of course," he nodded, flustered and rendered momentarily unable to string together a proper sentence. How could he refuse such a request?

Even in her last few hours, Dante had not once begged to be spared. Had not once protested her innocence, or begged Arthur to reconsider his verdict against her. She had not asked for her life.

Instead she had asked for that of her mother's.

He turned and hurried from the dungeons then, before his own courage could fail him.

Dante merely turned away and curled back into her corner, head resting back on her knees miserably.

...

It was to be a public event, of course. How could Arthur set the example to his people if it wasn't?

Everybody had heard of Dante's arrest, the trial and its outcome by now, but the crowd, as they were ushered into the courtyard of the Citadel, were curious to see if Arthur would actually go through with it. After all, the Lady Dante was supposed to be one of his closest friends and advisors. If he had forgiven his sister for her treasonous acts in the past, then surely he was going to pardon Dante as well, and this was all just a show to scare her, so that she would not behave badly again.

A loud clatter of bolts heralded Dante's entrance through the great door of the citadel dungeons, surrounded by guards. Her face remained unmoved - calm and composed as she walked to her doom - but her attire was immediately shocking. Everyone was so used to seeing her in fancy gowns of silk and satin, shimmering and glittering in the various lights, and adorned with various jewels and decorations. On the odd occasion they had also seen her in shirt and breeches during the Saxon wars, or light armour. Her hair had always been immaculate as well, twisted into some intricate braid, or long and flowing down her back.

Now, however, she looked almost unrecognizable in a simple sackcloth that was held about her slender waist by a length of rope. Her hair was held back from her face with a strip of leather in a crude ponytail that was so tight, it looked like the hairs were being pulled out slowly by their roots, and her hands were tied behind her with a stiff length of rope that had already chaffed and dug into her wrists. Her feet were bare as she walked across the cold stone cobbles.

Flanked by two hulking knights who constantly prodded her towards the platform, and surrounded by armed guards, Dante's nobility and title were reduced to nothing.

Gwen watched from the balcony above, although it seemed that right then, she'd rather be anywhere else. Merlin, Gaius, Tristan, Leon, Elyan and Percival were amongst those in the front row of the assembled crowd, along with Eira and her 'husband' - she'd missed the trial due to her wedding across the border in Caerleon, but had hurried back as soon as she'd heard. Her 'husband' had no choice but to follow and attend the execution as well, even though he couldn't have given two figs about Dante, or her situation.

Mordred and Morgana were there too, of course - Mordred gloating, whilst Morgana looked just as sombre as the other knights. Dante glanced in her cousin's direction as she passed, and wondered why Morgana should be looking so glum. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? To be rid of Dante once and for all? Why wasn't she happily gloating and smirking, like Mordred? She caught Morgana's eye for the briefest of moments, but then the witch turned away and Dante was prodded forwards again to be marched up the wooden steps, wincing as splinters dug into her feet from the rough wood.

As she was made to stand before the noose, a fanfare announced that the King had arrived. Everyone turned to the balcony, expecting him to walk out and stand beside his wife. They did not expect him to walk from the Citadel, out into the courtyard and down to the wooden platform.

He was dressed in his chainmail, as he usually did during ceremonial occasions. Excalibur was by his side, also, but instead of his usual crimson cape, he had donned a completely black one. Atop his head he wore his golden crown, nestled neatly within his strands of golden blonde hair, but aside from that he wore no other items of jewellery. His attire was plain (by kingly standards) and grim, just like his mood. he had at least recovered a little more from the poison now, and looked more healthy and fit than he had done during the trial, the previous day.

Climbing the steps and moving before Dante, he said, "Tell them everything, My Lady," quietly to her. She cleared her throat, surprised that he was still affording her the luxury of a title, even now.

"I am Dante Quincailan, Lady of Arryn, Daughter of Lord Ector and First Lady of the Court of Camelot," she spoke with a wavering, thin voice that betrayed the calm composure she had forced during her walk up from the dungeon. "I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of King and Country."

Several shouts of disbelief rose from the crowds then, but still nobody was convinced just yet - there was still time for Arthur to announce that she was forgiven and pardoned of her sins. After she'd confessed, perhaps?

"Before my arrival in Camelot, some four years past, I allied myself with some unsavoury characters, who would see Arthur dead and another upon his throne. I worked my way into Camelot and it was here that I secretly learnt all I could about the King and his weaknesses. I used these to plot treason against him, and sought to usurp him," Dante spoke now, her voice growing a little louder towards the end. "I come before you now to confess that I tried to murder the King, and his good wife, and steal not only the throne of Albion for those I serve, but also the throne of Camelot for myself, which I had been promised as payment for my services!"

The crowd really did roar then - with disapproval and disgust. If this was all a lie, it was a horrendous one, and if it was the truth...well that was even more horrendous.

Some who clearly believed that it was the truth began to get restless. A few stones sailed through the air, and one struck Dante on the forehead. She reeled back a few steps as blood began to trickle down her face.

Guards in the crowd ran to subdue the stone throwers as Arthur turned to Dante, with one last pitiful look. Then he nodded to the knights standing on either side of her.

As the single, deep throb of a drumbeat started pounding out a slow, ominous rhythm, they dragged her forward and made her step up onto the small wooden stool that had been set before her. Then one of them reached up, pulled the noose down and slid it over her head, pulling it tight. She winced as the coarse rope dug into the soft flesh of her throat, and fought back the tears that were suddenly threatening to spill down her cheeks.

To say that she was terrified was an understatement - as she stood on the stool she could not stop trembling in fear, and biting her lip was the only way to stop herself from suffering a full emotional breakdown. She found a particular nail in the platform to look at, and tried to take several deep breaths to calm herself. But nothing was working.

So instead she started to pray that Arthur would just hurry up and be done with it, before she lost her nerve completely.

Mercifully, Arthur must have read her mind as he stepped forward.

"The Lady Dante has confessed her sins. This traitor has put the lives of every citizen of Albion in dire jeopardy with her treasonous actions," Arthur announced to the crowd, who hushed again immediately. There was no conviction to his words, but he spoke them all the same.

"For justice, for Albion, and for her own salvation, I hereby condemn Dante Quincailan to death."

As he looked up at her, he took a deep breath, ashamed. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly, before nodding to the executioner who had moved to stand behind her - hood pulled over his head as per tradition.

With a well practiced aim, he kicked the stool out sharply with a booted foot.

The crowd gasped in unison and the slow drumbeat became a frantic, breathless roll as the rope tautened. A few women screamed, a few men cried out in despair, and then suddenly the whole crowd began to scream and shout, the non-believers of the group finally realising that this was no trick to shame Dante into better behaviour. This was real. Arthur meant to kill her.

Arthur paid them no mind. He was watching in horrified fascination as Dante fought for breath, her feet kicking in a futile attempt to find purchase on something - desperately trying to reach the overturned stool that was so cruelly just out of her reach. Her neck hadn't broken after the fall, which was a feat in itself - although it now meant that she would slowly choke to death instead - which was a far worse ordeal to endure.

And then there came shouts of a different kind as several armoured men charged up onto the platform from out of the crowds on all sides, fighting the guards. They were clearly seasoned warriors - perhaps foreign knights - and they could certainly hold their own against Arthur's men. They wore no colours to indicate who they fought for, however - their armour was plain, mostly made of leather, with a few pieces of steel here and there. It was light armour, meant for ease of movement - and it certainly gave them an advantage against Arthur's more heavily armoured men.

Another two leather-clad men rode through the gates on charging horses, barging the crowds out of the way so that they could get to the platform as well. Arthur had his sword drawn in an instant, fighting off two of the men. But for all the guards and knights surrounding the area, somehow one of the attackers still managed to reach the gallows. Leaping up beside the dying young woman, he slashed at the rope above her head and Dante fell to the ground, landing on her knees and gasping for breath. The rope may have been cut, however, but it was still drawn tightly round her neck, and with her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to pull it free.

The man who had cut her down saw her predicament and after kicking a knight backwards off the platform, he ran forward, pulling the noose away from her neck for her, slashing at the ropes round her wrists then throwing the pieces of heavy rope into the face of another charging Camelot Knight, which surprise the knight and slowed him down considerably. Then the rescuer took Dante's hand, pulled her to her feet and ran with her, over to a waiting horse.

Dante did not need telling twice. She was being given a second chance at life, and she was seizing that opportunity with both hands.

"After them!" Arthur cried as the men made their escape with his prisoner. But this rescue mission had been well planned, for just outside the citadel gates waited a dozen more horses and even more leather clad men. The group were long gone by the time the knights found their own horses and gave chase.

Arthur stood on the wooden platform in the centre of the courtyard, panting from the impromptu fight, Excalibur still gripped tightly in hand as all around him commands were issued to give chase to the fleeing fugitive and her rescuers whilst the crowd burst out into excited chatter - everyone amazed and stunned by what they'd just witnessed.

As he finally sheathed his sword, Arthur looked to Merlin in the front row. His manservant grinned, clearly pleased that Dante had escaped. Gaius looked happier than he'd done in a long time, too. Then Arthur looked up to Gwen, who nodded - having enough sense not to show her own delight in public. But he knew that she would be silently cheering. And how did he know that?

Because he was, too.

With any luck, Dante would have the sense to stay away from Camelot from now on. She would go into a self-imposed exile, and Arthur would not have to worry about having her death on his conscience. To say that he was relieved would be the understatement of the century, and although he should have been furious that she and that band of rogues had made a fool out of him, he couldn't find it in his heart to be angry.

"Well played, Dante. Well played," he commended her quietly as he jumped down from the platform and made a show of storming angrily back into the palace. Once the doors had closed behind him, however, he grinned broadly.

Percival, meanwhile, was helped back to his feet by Elyan, and the pair of them turned to watch the figures disappear into the distance, with grins of their own. Percival had promised Dante he would not let her die this day, and when Arthur had assigned him to gate duty to spare him the horror of watching his friend die, Percival had found the perfect opportunity to help her. He'd seen the men coming, and recognizing Gwaine riding amongst them, had guessed their intentions.

So he'd stepped aside and let them into the Citadel, rather than block their path as he should have done. Gwaine had hung back with him, waiting - not wanting to be seen aiding a convicted traitor to escape. The two friends had not spoken a word to one another, but the brief look they'd shared was enough. Gwaine was grateful for Percival's help, and Percival was glad to have made the right decision.

As the rescue party had retreated, Percival had once again stood aside to let them pass, then simply sat himself down against the gate and feigned unconsciousness. For all intents and purposes, he had simply been attacked by the group and knocked unconscious as they'd charged through the gate in the first place. As Percival had been alone, there was no-one to claim otherwise, and his part in Dante's escape would never be known, by anyone except those who had just rescued her.

Satisfied that he'd fulfilled his promise to her, he watched her vanish into the distance, then went to report to Arthur, feigning a headache and holding the back of his head for emphasis.


	25. Aftermath

**Author Note: I'm sorry I left you guys on that evil ending to the last chapter, but finally, 2 broken laptops, a new job and 3 migraines later, I'm back and able to write the next few chapters, which will hopefully begin to bring the story to some form of reasonable and satisfying close, lol. **

**Now, before I go any further, the last part of this chapter, between Lot and Morgana? Yes, it might be out of character for Morgana, but hey, the poor girl deserves a break! And if you imagine, as I've been doing, that Lot bears a more than striking resemblance to Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones...well. Would you say no to him?**

**Anyways, enjoy, and let me know what you think.**

**...**

Dante was spent - both physically and emotionally. She'd not slept at all during the night and had instead cried herself into a state of delirious exhaustion. By the time Arthur had come to her at dawn, she'd had nothing left. It was only when the guards had come to fetch her that her sheer terror at the prospect of facing her own death had awoken some last final reserves, deep within herself.

This last ounce of energy had been enough to carry her on trembling legs, from the dungeons and up to the scaffold, but it was all she'd been able to do, just to remain standing as she'd faced her doom.

And then as the rope had tightened about her neck and the world had vanished beneath her feet, the adrenaline coursed through her and she found herself coming alive once more. Of course, this feeling would not have lasted for long, had the strangers in leather not come to her rescue, but even so - for those few minutes of confusion during her escape, she'd never felt more alive!

Gripping tightly round the waist of the man in front of her, and feeling the wind lashing her face as they'd galloped through the streets of Camelot, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, she settled for ducking her head low and praying that she had not just leapt headlong out of the frying pan and into the fire. She had no idea who these people were, after all. By trusting them to whisk her to safety, had she foolishly placed herself in even greater danger?

Still, at that moment in time she could think of no fate worse than death, especially as she could still feel the tight, constricting sensation of an invisible rope around her throat.

An hour or so later, however, the adrenaline had worn off and the inevitable exhaustion had crashed down upon her like a fierce tidal wave, making her entire body feel like a lead weight in the saddle. It was a good job she was sharing a horse, as she'd more than likely have fallen off long before now, otherwise.

Not far from the border of Camelot, the group slowed to a walk - the horses caked in sweat and frothing at the mouths, whilst the men riding them looked all about anxiously for signs of pursuers. But no matter how good the Knights of Camelot were, it seemed that for the moment at least, they had outrun them – having had the element of surprise on their side.

By this time, Dante could not fight it any longer and had slipped into unconsciousness, her head resting against the back of the leather-clad man she was currently sharing a horse with. She had no idea who these men were, and for the moment at least, she didn't care. She was too tired to care. All she wanted to do was sleep.

So she did.

...

Leon strode into the throne room and each and every head turned in his direction as the various monarchs stopped their idle chatter to see what he had to say. He stopped beside the empty chair to Arthur's left - the one that had formerly belonged to Dante, and bowed to the assembled group, before turning to address Arthur directly.

"There's no sign of her, Sire. My men have searched everywhere. Whoever those men were, they were skilled at covering their tracks. We suspect she's fled back to Arryn, but as it is across the border, we did not wish to pursue without permission first."

At that, he looked directly to Lot, who shook his head. "Out of the question. If I let your knights trample all over my Kingdom, Arthur, there'll be full scale riot!"

"Lot, you're harbouring a fugitive in your lands," Queen Annis said angrily. "Anyone would think you were on her side!"

"Well she admitted she did what she did, in order to give me the advantage," Lot shrugged, sitting back in his seat in a relaxed pose.

"She was not working for you," Arthur retorted, motioning for Leon to sit. Leon hesitated a moment, reluctant to sit in Dante's seat, but eventually did so anyway as he was well aware that most people were still staring at him, and he hated being the centre of attention.

"How do you know?" Lot challenged, sitting forward again.

"Because you stabbed her. Only a fool would help someone who wanted them dead."

"Touche," Lot conceded, sitting back again with a smug grin on his face. "I guess that must mean Lady Dante's an even bigger fool than you first thought, then. Considering she was working for Morgana, and all."

"She was what?!" Several of the monarchs gasped in surprise, but Arthur and Gwen both shared a pointed look, before Arthur groaned.

"I should have known."

"Yes, you should," Lot agreed, enjoying the situation all the more with each passing second. "My betrothed is a clever girl, isn't she."

"You're still intending to go through with the wedding?" Mithian asked, horrified.

"Of course," Lot nodded as though the answer were obvious. "She's smart, beautiful and not to mention powerful beyond your limited comprehension. Why wouldn't I marry her? She'd make a fine Queen, don't you think?"

"A tyrant Queen," Arthur growled.

"Now now, Arthur. She learned from the best. After all, with Uther as her only role model, what do you expect? Besides, just because you are anti-magic, it does not mean we all are."

"You're making a mistake, Lot," Gwen protested, speaking on her husband's behalf. "Morgana cannot be trusted."

"Look around this room, My Lady," Lot said, gesturing to the people sitting around the round table at that moment in time. "And tell me honestly who you can trust, out of the lot of us. We're all the same, you and I, us, them. We're all, when it boils down to it, power hungry tyrants who want to hold the world in the palm of our hands."

"Not all of us are monsters like you," Gwen growled angrily, and Arthur had to place a hand on her shoulder to restrain her slightly - impressed but also a little scared by his wife's sudden change in attitude.

"One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter," Lot shrugged.

"Alright, enough with the insults," King Odin sighed at last. "Lets us get back to the matter at hand, before I fall asleep from boredom, shall we? Arthur, what do you intend to do about this escaped criminal. Bearing in mind that showing mercy and letting her live, weakens your campaign as High King."

"Is that a threat, Odin?"

"No Arthur, it's a simple statement. One you would do well to remember. She made a fool of you. She betrayed you. If you let her escape punishment, you're effectively showing Albion what a poor King you will be. How many others will push the boundaries? How many others will you let escape?"

"And what if she turns out to be innocent?" Mithian protested. "Then Arthur will have killed an innocent woman. What kind of a king would that make him then?!"

"He's already held her trial and found her guilty," Odin shrugged. "Your point is no longer valid, Princess. So why don't you run along and play with your toys whilst the grownups have a grown up chat?"

"You said the same thing to Dante, once," Annis spoke up then, coming to the young Princess' aid. "Is your opinion of us women so low that you view us all as children, not worth your time?"

"Mithian, Guinevere and Dante? Yes. You, Annis? I see you more as an ancient ruler, well past her years. You should retire whilst you still can."

"How dare you!" Annis leapt to her feet, as did Mithian and a number of other monarchs, just as Mordred slammed the door open and ran in, skidding to a halt beside Arthur's chair. He whispered something urgently into Arthur's ear.

"It would appear," Arthur started after a moment in a loud voice that quickly put an end to any arguments that were ongoing across the table. "That Dante has indeed returned to Arryn. As such, I intend to ride out and meet with her in her hometown."

"You cross my borders, that's an act of war," Lot reminded as the other kings and queens sat down again to listen to Arthur. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"How many times have you and your men crossed my borders, Lot? I'm not going to start a fight in your land. I merely intend to TALK to her."

"And how many men will you take with you to 'talk' to her?" Lot asked, folding his arms.

"Just a small portion of my army," Arthur replied confidently. "Enough to let her father know I mean business and give him incentive to resolve this situation without bloodshed."

"He has over a hundred knights at his disposal," Lot said after a moment. "I'd call that a small army."

"If you are planning on stopping me, Lot," Arthur started, a deadly tone to his voice as he did not finish the threat, but instead let it linger. Lot stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged.

"Do what you like, Arthur. That family have been nothing but a thorn in my side since I took over from Cenred as king. If you want their blood on your hands, feel free. But don't come running to me when things go sour. Because I warn you, Ector's not a man to be trifled with."

"Duly noted," Arthur nodded. Then he turned to Leon. "Prepare two hundred of our finest men. We ride in an hour."

...

"Arthur's leaving with two hundred of his finest men and the Round Table Knights," Lot said casually as he walked into Morgana's chambers, after the meeting had finally come to an end. Morgana glanced up curiously from the journal she'd been writing in, then snapped it shut and rose from her desk.

"And what of Mordred?"

"He's been left to defend the Queen. She's to take over during Arthur's absence," Lot shrugged as he tugged off his leather gloves then removed his crown and placed both on the table by the fire.

"And what does Arthur intend to do with Dante when he finds her?" Morgana asked as she walked over to join him. He poured two cups of wine and passed one to her.

"He says he's going to talk to her. I warned him that any more than that would be an act of war."

"He's going to talk to my cousin?" Morgana laughed incredulously. "Does he KNOW Dante?"

"Apparently not," Lot grinned. "But this whole situation gives us a huge advantage. How did you know this would happen?"

"I didn't," Morgana sighed, and there was a regretful tone to her voice. "Dante was never meant to get involved. It should have been a simple case of Gwen poisoning her husband, both of them losing the throne and you stepping in to claim total control. But Dante had to play the bloody hero, didn't she! She had to ruin everything! I never wanted her dead!"

Lot frowned. He'd never seen Morgana show this much emotion about someone before, and reached up to brush a surprising tear from the corner of the witch's eye.

"You really do care about her, don't you," he realised. "I just thought..."

"You just thought I was using her," Morgana finished for him, turning away and sniffing as she attempted to collect herself.

"Well, I did have my doubts after the way you reacted in Ealdor," he admitted, setting the cup on the table and stepping behind her, wrapping his arms about her slender waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back into him, closing her eyes. "But yes, I'll admit I thought she was just another pawn in this grand scheme of yours. Just as I am."

"I'd never use you," she frowned, her eyes still closed. "You're an arrogant, selfish, pig headed man sometimes...but you're no pawn."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he muttered into her ear.

After a moment, she sighed. "What do you think Arthur will do when he finds her?"

"Probably give her another chance at life," Lot said after careful consideration. "He gave you a second chance, after all."

"But I am his sister. Dante is nothing to him."

"You and I both know that he favoured Dante greatly when she was here. All credit to the girl, she played that part well enough, getting as close to him as she did. Look at the trouble he had during her hearing. Had it not been for her stubborn foolishness, he might have actually let her off, free of all charges."

"Yes, but she refused to name me as her ally and now she's paying the price for her loyalty. I need to help her. It's the least I can do."

"Look," Lot sighed eventually. "Arthur would have found out one way or another, eventually, so that cannot be helped."

He decided not to mention that he'd been the one to actually speak the truth aloud, earlier in the meeting, and instead held Morgana closer to him as he said, "But if she truly means that much to you, then I'll go with him and make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."

Morgana turned in Lot's arms and looked up at him suspiciously. "You would do that? Why?"

"She means a lot to you. You obviously care about her. And I care about you. I don't want to see you hurt, any more than you want to see Dante hurt. So it will be mutually beneficial for us all, if I help her. Besides, then I'll have made amends for the whole Ealdor incident."

Morgana stared up at him for a long time, trying to see the trick, or the lies in his words, or the betrayal in his eyes. Surprisingly, she found nothing but sincerity. He truly meant what he said.

"You know," she grinned, standing on tiptoes so she could look him in the eyes. "Playing the hero suits you. You should do it more often."

He thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "Nah."

She grinned also, then leaned forward and kissed him, pulling him closer and wrapping her hand into his shoulder-length hair. He returned the kiss eagerly, and from the doorway, Eira smiled, unnoticed by either.

Apparently it wasn't just a marriage of convenience after all, then. She backed out of the room, feeling both jealous of and thrilled by Morgana's choice of husband. Because unlike Eira and her husband, it seemed that Lot and Morgana had been able to find some common ground, and their feelings for one another had grown over time. Eira doubted that would ever happen for her. The longer she spent away from her husband, the better.

Still, it didn't really hurt that Lot was devilishly handsome, and Morgana certainly wasn't unpleasant to look upon, either. As a couple, they were well suited. Lot also tolerated Morgana's 'gift' as he called it, and did not outcast her for her magic. He accepted Morgana for who she was. Not many others could claim to do that. In fact, Dante and Mordred were the only other people Eira knew of, who had accepted Morgana's magic, and now one of them, at least, was fleeing for her life.

Perhaps, Eira thought to herself ruefully as she closed the door quietly and turned away, she could send her own husband off to battle somewhere, and he wouldn't return? Maybe if things went sour with Dante, she could suggest that he go to war, for 'glory and honour'.

Completely forgetting why she had gone to Morgana in the first place, she wandered back down the corridor, humming to herself.

...

An hour later, ten thousand men left Camelot, some of them Arthur's chosen knights, but most of them belonging to Lot's army. The Cavalry rode ahead, with Lot, Arthur, Merlin and the Round Table knights, whilst those on foot were left to follow as quickly as they could, under the command of Lot's most trusted officers.

Arthur had not liked the fact that Lot had insisted on tagging along, but Lot pointed out that Ector's lands and therefore Dante herself, were in Essetir, Lot's kingdom. He claimed that he wanted to make sure Arthur and his men did not breach the peace and commit any acts of war. He didn't mention that he was also there to keep his future wife's cousin safe from harm. But then, Arthur didn't need to know that.

As the army started off, Gwen and Morgana watched from the windows of their respective rooms as the men they loved rode together, side by side, putting their past differences behind them for the time being, in light of a common goal.

Mordred was also watching from another window, and smiled in satisfaction. When the army was finally out of sight, he decided that it was the perfect time to put his carefully prepared plan into action, finally.


	26. Homeward Bound

Dante had no idea how much time had passed whilst she'd been out for the count, but when she finally awoke to find herself nestled in a mound of furs beside a glowing fire, she figured it must have been several hours, at least.

Groaning a little as she slowly sat up, blinking and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she vaguely became aware that everything had gone quiet. It took her a moment to realise that there were several other people sat around the fire, and all of them had turned to look in her direction, their conversations stopping in an instant.

She raised a hand gingerly and probed her throat, wincing at the bruise that had already formed, and was pretty tender to touch.

"Sleeping beauty awakens at last," a familiar voice said from nearby, and turning to squint into the dark, she could just make out the shape of a Gwaine, sitting just a few feet away, shredding the bark off a stick and tossing the little strips into the fire. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," she admitted, rubbing her throat gingerly again. "And confused. Where am I? What happened?"

"You're currently on the border between Essetir and Camelot," another voice spoke, this time from her left, and tucking her legs under her, she sat up straighter, then turned to him, again squinting into the darkness, although this time she couldn't make out anyone at all. Just a bodiless voice. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Milady."

She knew others were sitting around the fire - she could see their silhouettes, and hear them moving. But she couldn't see any of them clearly enough to distinguish who they were. She'd only recognized Gwaine because of his oh-so-familiar voice, and the firelight dancing across his handsome features, casting half his face into shadow, and bathing the other half in a mellow orange glow. "Easier said than done when I can't see anything at all," she retorted at last, still struggling to make out who had spoken.

"You're blind?" Someone on the far side of the fire asked, concerned.

"Blinded by the fire," she corrected, motioning to it with a vague wave of her hand. Which was true enough. The fire was so bright, compared to the dark surroundings that she actually couldn't see anything more than a foot away from her. And she finally understood why guards on sentry duty chose to stand with their backs to their braziers and torches. That way they would not be blinded by the flames and caught unawares by approaching enemies.

After all, anyone could walk up to her, right at that moment, and she'd be none the wiser. Not until it was too late, at least.

As a murmur of understanding rippled around the group, she was able to distinguish that they were all men. She was, apparently, the only woman amongst them

"Here, let us help you with that," the bodiless voice to her left spoke again at last, as he shuffled forward and began kicking dirt onto the fire to extinguish it.

"What are you doing?" she frowned. "It's still dark!"

"Yes, and you're being hunted by pretty much the entire armies of both Camelot and Essetir, from what Gryff could make out. They'll see the fire and catch us for sure. Now that you're awake, however, we can move on again and be home by morning."

"Home. The one place I never thought I'd see again," she mused thoughtfully. And then she frowned. "Wait, did you say Gryff? As in Gryfflett? He's here?" Dante asked, squinting into the darkness, even though she knew it was futile.

"I'm here, Milady," he called out from the darkness. "So's Baudemagus, Dinedan, Gaheris, Galahad, Gareth and Dagonet."

Dante blinked in surprise. "You...you're all here?" She asked, stunned. "But...my father...?"

"Sent us to collect you, Milady," the voice to her left spoke again and now she recognized him as Baudemagus, her loyal bodyguard and shield. Or at least he had been, before she'd run away. "When Gwaine told us about your plight, Ector ordered us to come and rescue you. Not that we needed telling twice. I'm sure you know by now that we'd all give up our lives for you in an instant."

"I...I don't know what to say..." she stammered, although this could be partly to do with the fact it had also suddenly turned very cold, without the warmth of the fire or the thick fur mantle round her shoulders.

"Say nothing, Milady," Baudemagus said gently as he moved to her side and crouched beside her. Now that her sight had finally started to adjust to the darkness, she was able to make out his features once more - rugged, tough, handsome - beneath a bushy beard and long shoulder-length hair.

"It 's so good to see you Baldy!" She grinned.

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, no-one's had the audacity to call me that in many years."

"They just don't know you as well as I do," she laughed, hugging him.

And then the other knights and squires who had come to her aid, were suddenly clambering forward to greet her and ask her questions and beg her forgiveness for the fact they had almost been too late. They were all loyal soldiers in the employment of her father, and she'd known them all since before she could even remember.

Sir Baudemagus was her Sworn Shield - her loyal bodyguard who had shadowed her everywhere and thrown himself between her and danger on more than one occasion. Now, he told her, he had become the Sworn Shield of Gwaine's sister, Arya, instead. He'd been reluctant to leave her, but in the end, Arya had insisted, and he'd also realised that he was still technically Dante's Shield too, so he had a duty to protect her as well.

Sir Gareth, Master of the Horse, was in charge of training all the horses in Ector's stables and keeping the stables themselves in order. His brother, Sir Gaheris was Master at Arms and it was his job to ensure that the armoury was kept in order. Their father, Sir Lamerocke was Ector's own Sworn Shield, so had remained behind whilst his sons had come to Dante's rescue.

Sir Galahad, the Captain of the Guard and his squire Gryfflett had also come, as had Sir Dagonet the Kennel Master and his squire, Dinedan. These men were the main body of Ector's private guard - a group not dissimilar to Arthur's knights of the Round Table, in fact. They were an elite order within the much larger group.

And they all loved Dante dearly, and were glad that they had rescued her and were the ones charged with bringing her home again. To them, it was the ultimate honour, and they did not stop telling her this, for quite some time as they crowded round her.

Only Gwaine did not rush forward. He simply remained shredding his stick and tossing it into the smouldering embers of the recently extinguished fire. At first, Dante didn't notice, but as the Knights of Arryn slowly drifted away to pack up their make-shift camp, she finally noticed him sitting alone, and wrapping the thick fur mantle about her once more, she stood on wavering legs, took a moment to steady herself, then walked over and sat beside him.

"I owe you a huge apology," she started quietly, but was suddenly silenced as he reached out, pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers in a desperate, passionate kiss that completely and utterly betrayed his undying love for this remarkable young woman. She'd been about to speak again, but, taken by surprise by his kiss, completely forgot her train of thought as after a moment of surprise which rendered her immobile, she finally regained control of her senses and wrapped her arms about his neck, returning the kiss with equal passion, equal love and devotion.

After what felt like an eternity, they parted, but their foreheads remained resting against one another as they panted slightly from the kiss.

"For a while there, I thought I'd lost you," he whispered at last, into the silence.

"For a while there, you did," she whispered back. And then she frowned. "We're not out of the woods yet, though."

"Literally, or figuratively," he agreed, reluctantly letting her go and standing, then extending a hand to her. "But no matter what happens, I will not lose you again." As she stood, he pulled her into his big, strong arms. "I won't," he promised, as she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the chainmail and the armour beneath.

And she knew that he meant it. He'd rescued her from the jaws of death twice now. And he'd keep doing it, again and again and again, if he had to.

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him, clinging on tightly as they stood there in the dark of the forest, whilst all around them, the Knights of Arryn packed away the last few things and hid any traces that they had ever been there in the first place.

Ten minutes later, they were finally ready to depart, and this time Dante shared Gwaine's horse, sitting behind him, her arms wrapped about his waist and her head once again leaning against his strong shoulders.

...

Dawn was just beginning to appear on the horizon when finally the group emerged from the forest on the western border of Arryn. Dante was the first to spot the man, sitting on the low stone wall at the entrance to the town, and squinting in the early morning light, she gasped when she realised who it was.

"Is that...?"

"It is," Gwaine nodded as the group of horses were reigned to a halt. "Your father promised he'd wait there for your return. Seems he's a man of his word."

"He always was," Dante nodded as she slid from the saddle, pulled Gwaine's borrowed cloak tighter about her shoulders, then started forward, only to have a sudden thought that made her turn back.

"Wait here? Please?" She asked the men, who all nodded.

"Yes Milady," Baudemagus spoke aloud the confirmation. With a nod of thanks to him, she then turned and started off in the direction of her father, once more.

By the time she reached him, he'd moved away from the wall and was standing with his back to her, looking out over the lake to the left of the roadway leading into the town. A pair of swans glided silently across the still waters, ripples dancing across the smooth surface behind them. On the far side, a mother duck and her ducklings were just waking from sleep and stretching, making themselves ready for an early morning dip.

Somewhere nearby, a lone bird was singing his morning chorus in one of the trees as he waited for the other birds to wake and join him.

Dante moved to stand quietly beside her father as he watched the swans. She folded her arms across her chest, holding the borrowed cloak tighter about herself to protect from the chill wind that had picked up. She was still wearing the sack cloth robe, after all, although Gwaine had very chivalrously given up his socks for her, so that she wasn't completely bare footed. She'd have taken his boots too, but they were just too big. Even his socks she'd had to tie up with strips of material.

For what seemed like an eternity, the pair of them stood in silence, the rest of the group keeping a wary distance as they knew that this was not for them to get involved in.

After what felt like a lifetime for Dante, she finally felt his eyes turn to her. But even then, she remained staring out at the mountains in the distance, not having the courage yet to turn and face him properly.

"I've been waiting for your return," he said eventually.

"How long?"

"Long enough," he said after a pause.

"And how long have you been waiting here?"

"Since sunset, yesterday."

There was another pause as Dante shifted on her feet, a little awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"Are you angry with me?" She asked eventually, needing to break the silence before it drove her to the brink of insanity - not that she wasn't bordering there already. She still wouldn't look at him.

He shook his head. "I don't think there's enough room in my heart for anger."

Again, there was a long, almost painful silence as she appeared to be thinking things through in her mind. And then finally, she looked to him, for the first time. His shocking electric blue eyes, neatly trimmed beard and long flowing hair so familiar to her – and yet so alien, too. She hadn't seen him for four years, and yet it felt like only yesterday that she'd last seen him. He looked older now, though. And burdened with something - like the weight of an entire Kingdom rested on his shoulders.

"It's been four years..." he sighed at last. "You've no idea how much I've missed you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You've changed...those four years have been kind to you. I barely recognized you at first, when you rode out from under those trees. Of course, your choice of clothing is somewhat debatable," He eyed her up and down and she felt herself cringe. But then his gaze returned to her eyes and held her stare, as his voice took on a much gentler, more compassionate tone once more.

"But there was no mistaking who you truly were. My eyes, Evelyn's attitude. You sound so much like her when you talk...It's strange, I never noticed before. I guess it's true what they say. You never do appreciate something until it's been lost to you."

He reached out to wipe a strand of hair back from her brow, but stopped, unsure if he was allowed to.

A tear slid down Dante's cheek as she took his hand and held it to her face. "I miss her," she nodded sadly.

"So do I, my girl. So do I."

"Father...I'm so...SO sorry," she choked and this last word was said in a terrible outpouring of grief and love as she crumpled into his arms, embracing him tightly. It felt so right to be back in her father's arms once more. He kissed her head and held her close, feeling her trembling and shaking as she cried into his shoulder.

"My little girl...I thought I'd lost you..." he whispered. "What happened to you?"

"I...I don't know..." She replied between sobs. "I'm so sorry! I've failed you!"

"Failed me?" He frowned, stroking her hair soothingly. "How have you failed me, my girl?"

"I...I've done some terrible things..." she continued, barely able to get any words out between sobs now. "You'll be so ashamed of me!"

"I doubt it, Sweetheart," he reassured gently, smoothing her silky hair with one hand. "I promise, I will hear what you have to say, and listen to your reasons. You have no reason to fear my judgement, until I have heard everything. The good AND the bad."

"Promise me?" she asked, glancing up at him with wet eyes.

"I promise you."

"I'll tell you everything," she muttered, burying her face into his shoulder and clinging to him tightly, as if afraid to let go. "But not here. Not now."

"Not here," he agreed, noticing for the first time that she was shivering quite violently - and not from crying. She was cold.

Unclasping his own cloak, he draped it about her shoulders over the top of the other, then motioned for the men to follow as he began to lead her back to the large manor house on the far side of the village. As they came to the gravel track, however, she paused, wincing as the sharp stones dug through the socks and into her feet.

"Need help?" Ector asked her gently, but she held her head high, in determination. If she could walk calmly to her own death without aid, then she could manage a stupid pathway.

"No. I've got this," she assured him. Then gritting her teeth and taking a deep breath, she strode purposefully out across the gravel, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails began to dig into her palms. But this pain masked the pain she felt on the soles of her feet, and before she knew it, she'd reached the front step of Ector's Manor house - Her house.

Her home.

And she finally let go of the breath she'd been holding, a wave of relief crashing over her as the door was opened by one of the servants and she was welcomed inside.


	27. The Beginning of the End

**Author Note: Hey guys, it's been a while since I added any more chapters, so I apologise if this chapter seems 'out of sorts' or the characters seem 'out of character'. Anyway, this is, as the chapter title suggests, the beginning of the end. Morgana was warned by Morgause (in a dream if you remember back to one of the earlier chapters), that she had to make a choice between Dante and Mordred, because one would betray her, whilst the other would see her rise to greatness. Well, it may seem like Morgana has already chosen, and the betrayal has already happened...but has it really? Or did she make the wrong choice and cast the wrong servant aside?**

**She's about to find out.**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

Gwen was awoken sometime during the early hours of the morning by the sounds of distant fighting. It took her a few seconds to register the sounds, in her sleepy mind, but once realisation dawned, she was up and out of bed in an instant, running for the window even as she threw a cloak about her shoulders.

Down in the courtyard below, fighting had indeed broken out, between the knights of Camelot and a band of warriors wearing colours she did not immediately recognize.

A fierce pounding on her bedroom door caused her to jump with a start and turn away from the window. The hammering continued, growing more and more frantic with each passing moment, matching Gwen's frantic heart.

Running to the fireplace, she grabbed the fire iron, gripping it tightly in both hands as she moved into the middle of the room. If they wanted her, they'd have to come and get her. And she'd not make it easy for them. She may not exactly be a skilled swordswoman, but she could certainly hold her own if needed.

As the door burst inwards and a figure charged in, she swung the iron down with all her might, fully expecting the metal rod to connect with skull, or flesh, or some other part of her attacker's body. At least, she hoped it would. She was completely unprepared, therefore, when it struck against the blade of a sword.

The impact jarred her arm, and she cried out in pain.

"Majesty, it's me! Mordred!" The figure called out as he stepped into the moonlight flooding through the window of the otherwise darkened room. When she saw it was him, she breathed an audible sigh of relief, gingerly rubbing her arm where it had been jarred with the impact. His sword was bloody and he was panting, clearly having fought his way up to her room in the first place.

"Mordred! What's happening?!" She gasped, pulling the cloak tighter about herself and tugging on a pair of leather boots. She was still in her nightgown, but there was no time to stop and change, now. This would have to do, until the opportunity came to change into something more appropriate.

"We're under attack, Majesty," Mordred panted, as he ran to the window and checked the situation beyond. Then he turned and ran back to the door, checking to the corridor beyond.

"Quickly, come with me. We have to get you to safety!"

She didn't need telling twice, and followed him as he started from the room.

"What of the others?" She gasped, as she ran behind him, still clutching the fire iron in one hand, and her cloak closed with the other.

"I sent other knights to get them," Mordred explained as they paused at a junction and he checked to make sure the coast was clear, before they hurried out into the joining corridor. "They'll be escorted to safety, don't worry."

"Good," Gwen nodded. "Who are these attackers? What do they want?"

"We don't know," Mordred explained as they slipped down yet another deserted corridor. "They came out of nowhere. We thought at first they were more of the same men who came for Dante."

"And are they?" Gwen asked, suspiciously. Something about all this didn't feel right. She had a terrible feeling that something was so very wrong. But she couldn't put her finger on WHAT exactly.

"No," Mordred said as a group of Camelot knights charged round the corner. "They're not Dante's men...they're mine!"

He threw his hand out and the four knights were thrown off their feet, each slamming backwards into the wall with sickening thuds as their heads rebounded off brickwork.

"What - ?" Gwen started, stunned. Mordred rounded on her then, grabbing her arm so forcefully that she dropped the iron in surprise. It clattered to the floor and he kicked it aside, out of her reach.

"Come with me, and no harm befall you," he hissed, shouldering open the door to the throne room - she hadn't noticed where he'd been taking her, until now.

"Mordred, let me go! What is the meaning of this?!" Gwen protested angrily, trying to tug her arm free as he dragged her into the room. A handful of Camelot knights were standing inside, bloodied and beaten, surrounded by the invaders at sword point. A little further into the room, the other Kings and Queens were being held at sword point too, along with Gaius. Merlin was not there - although this was no surprise as he'd gone with Arthur, the previous afternoon.

In front of the throne, Mordred threw Gwen unceremoniously to the ground, then stood over her, his bloodied sword gleaming in the moonlight that streamed through the windows.

"You're beaten, Guinevere," he sneered, as two guards moved to stand either side of her. "You're my hostage now. Arthur will have no choice but to surrender Albion to me."

"You must be joking if you think he'll do that," Gwen snapped, trying to scramble back to her feet. But the two guards took her arms and kept her firmly pinned on her knees. She yelped as pain flared across her shoulders, but Mordred merely smirked.

"Oh, he will surrender to me, I assure you," Mordred nodded, his confidence sending a cold shiver down Gwen's spine. "IF he survives my little trap, that is. Because you see, the Lady Dante may have been in league with Morgana, but she never truly knew what I had planned. She caused a wonderful distraction, I'll admit. Very helpful to me, in fact. It got Arthur out of the way and allowed me to set this whole plan into action." He waved a hand about the room, although he wasn't just indicating the room itself, but the devastation that lay beyond, as well. "But she never knew what I had in mind. Neither did Morgana, come to think of it."

He smiled, clearly amused by this prospect, even as the witch herself swept into the room, dressed in her familiar dark robes. Gwen envied her then, for the briefest of moments. At least she'd had the time to stop and dress first.

"Mordred?" She asked in confusion as she walked up to him, eyeing Gwen on the floor, and all the strange men holding everyone hostage. "What's going on?"

"Morgana! Just the woman I wanted to see!" Mordred beamed as he motioned to Gwen, still kneeling before him. "I have a gift for you. The Crown of Camelot."

"What?" Morgana frowned.

Mordred motioned to Gwen, deflating slightly as he was forced to explain. "The Crown of Camelot. You always said you couldn't stand the fact a simple servant sat on your throne. Well, now I've removed her. The throne is yours."

"Are you mad?" Morgana spat, rounding on him, her eyes sparking furiously.

Mordred seemed taken aback by this response, and Gwen realised that what he'd said about the witch was true. She'd had no idea of his plans, at all. She'd clearly been so busy making her own, that she hadn't given any thought to him - hadn't even considered the possibility that he might have plans of his own.

"Morgana, just a few days ago, you forced her to try and kill Arthur. You wanted her dead. Now I'm offering you her head and you're refusing it?"

Gwen blinked, struggling to keep up. Were these two on the same side? Were they against one another? What the hell was going on?!

A sharp crack echoed about the room, and those of Mordred's men who hadn't already had their swords drawn, drew them in an instant. Mordred back peddled, blood seeping from his split lip.

"How dare you strike me," he hissed, dabbing at his lip with the back of his hand. "I am your king!"

Morgana stared at him incredulously for a moment, then laughed. "Only in your very deluded dreams! Arthur is King of Camelot! And when he is dead, I am next in line. Not you. You will NEVER sit the throne of Camelot. Or any other throne, for that matter. You are nothing but a commoner. A druid in knight's clothing. You're nothing."

"She's right!" Gwen piped up then, unable to stay quiet any longer. If she was going to die, then so be it. But she would not die quietly. "She is the rightful Queen, if my husband is dead. But you forget, he's not so easy to kill."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Mordred grinned a sly, malevolent grin that warned her he knew something she didn't - but perhaps should have. And then his earlier words dawned on her.

"You've set a trap for him," she realised, with growing fear and dread.

"Indeed I have," Mordred nodded. "Arthur must pass through Camlan to return to Camelot. My men lie in wait, ready to meet him head on. My men outnumber his, five to one. He does not stand a chance."

Again, Morgana laughed. "You underestimate my brother," she sneered. "You forget Mordred, I've been trying for eight long years to kill Arthur. He has proved an incredibly resilient foe."

"Careful Morgana, one might think you've grown to respect the man," Mordred growled, turning to her. His bloodied sword now stood between them, a threatening gesture, warning her to back off. But Morgana was not so easily intimidated. She held his gaze steadily.

"Perhaps I do," she said after a long, tense pause. "Which is more than can be said for my feelings towards you. This was never part of the plan, and you know it."

"Oh yes, the plan. I forgot about your master plan! But tell me, Morgana. Where in this grand scheme of yours, do I fit in? Because from what I remember, it was YOU who supposedly takes the throne after Arthur is defeated. You and that obnoxious bastard you call a fiance. YOU take all the glory and the power. And what did I stand to gain out of it? NOTHING!"

"I was going to return magic to the realm!" Morgana exploded, and Gwen flinched, fully expecting her to lash out at Mordred again. But she restrained herself - just.

"I can do that too," Mordred retorted. "What's the matter, Morgana? Someone beat you to it? Oh, suddenly it's no fun anymore, is it. When someone comes along and cuts the strings to all your little puppets."

"How dare you!" Morgana's fists clenched tightly. "What gives YOU the right?!"

"I have just as much right as YOU!"

"I'M A PENDRAGON!" Morgana virtually screamed at him. "That throne is MINE!"

Gwen blinked again, in surprise. That was the first time she'd ever heard Morgana willingly admit that she was of the same blood as Arthur. And it was also the first time she'd ever admitted to being of the same blood as Uther, also.

"Well then," Mordred said, after lengthy consideration. "The Pendragons are my enemies. I guess you must be, too."

He raised his sword to strike her, but she was faster and blasted him backwards with a wordless spell, her eyes flashing gold with her fury as he was hurled through the air. All hell broke loose within the hall then as the others began to fight back against their captors, and when Morgana dispatched of the two guards holding Gwen captive, she wasted no time in jumping back to her feet again.

The two women stared at one another for a long moment, both sharing a common desire to escape this situation. Morgana was the first to speak.

"Are you alright?"

"Nothing I've not suffered before," Gwen replied coldly as she rubbed her aching shoulder. Morgana nodded, took one look at the chaos in the hall, then turned for the nearest door. She paused after only a few steps, however, then turned back to Gwen, just as Gaius and Eira hurried over to her.

"Come with me if you want to live," the witch said simply, before turning on her heel and hurrying through the door, vanishing from sight.

Gaius, Eira and Gwen looked to one another, uneasily, weighing their options. If they stayed here, they were sure to die. If they went with Morgana, they outnumbered her, at least. But would that be enough to stop her, if she turned on them? She did have magic, after all.

But then so did Mordred. And he also had a whole army of angry men. Morgana really was the lesser of two evils, right about then.

Their minds made up, they all ran after the witch, hoping to catch her up before she vanished completely.

...

"So just who's side are you on, exactly?!" Gwen pressed as the four of them hurried through the corridors of the citadel and down towards the stable block - via a detour to Dante's chambers, so that Morgana could collect something that she said would be of great importance, during the coming days. What it was, Gwen had no idea, but it was a thin bundle of purple silk which Morgana tucked into her belt for safekeeping.

"No-one's," came the reply, as two of Mordred's men ran at them and Morgana held out her hand, twisting it. The two men flew backwards, crashing against pillars, and fell to the floor lifeless, allowing the four to pass by, unhindered.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking that because I am aiding you, I am on Arthur's side."

"Dante told me once that you were willing to put your differences aside, in light of your common enemy in the Saxons," Gwen retorted, stopping to grab one of the fallen men's swords. She threw it to Eira, then took another for herself.

"Dante tells people lots of things," Morgana replied as she marched on - a woman on a mission. "Does not make them true."

"You mean how she told Arthur she was guilty of what happened?" Gwen guessed. Morgana said nothing, but her silence was enough confirmation for the Queen. She glanced at Gaius, but he was having a hard enough job just keeping up with the rapid pace that Morgana was setting, and could not speak just yet. Still, he nodded to Gwen to show that he had been thinking along the same lines as her, regardless.

"She did not deserve what happened to her," Morgana spoke eventually - and there was no heat to her words, no malevolence. If anything, her tone was nothing but incredibly sad and regretful - a complete contrast to the evil, smirking witch that they were all used to.

But her tone angered Gwen.

"If you love her so much, why did you leave her in the dungeon?! You could have sprung her out long before now and Arthur would never have found her. He'd have stayed here and Mordred would never have taken over by force!"

"Oh he would have," Morgana assured her. "I should have seen it coming. I learned long ago never to trust anyone, but I let my guard down with him."

Gwen wanted to argue back, but for a moment was at a loss for words. They had reached the stables by now, anyway, and whilst Eira and Gaius kept guard, Morgana and Gwen fetched the horses. There was no time to make four of them ready, so they settled for Gwen's own horse and Dante's horse, Vixen. Morgana was surprisingly gentle towards Vixen, Gwen noted.

"So why did you leave her?" She asked after the silence became too unbearable.

"Because Dante is a stubborn creature. If I had opened the door to her cell, she'd have closed it again, just to spite me. She'd have remained sitting in that cell, with the door wide open, all night if she had to, just to defy my own actions. It was better that I let someone else rescue her and lead her to believe that I had nothing to do with it."

Again, Gwen wanted to protest, but again she was unable. Because the more she thought about it, the more she realised that Morgana was right. Dante was a very stubborn young woman indeed. She would purposefully do the opposite of someone, sometimes, just to spite or annoy them, and after what had happened, it was not surprising that she had turned against her cousin.

"So why are you helping us?" Gwen asked, as they led the horses to the entrance.

"I am opening the door of your own dungeon, Guinevere," Morgana said curtly as she swung into the saddle and Eira jumped up behind her. "What you do with this opportunity is your choice. I urge you not to make the same mistake as Dante."

"The further the distance between myself and Mordred, the happier I'll be," Gwen retorted as she climbed onto her own horse and helped Gaius up behind her.

There was a shout, and then the alarm bells began to sound as Gwen turned in the saddle to look back the way they'd come.

Morgana dug her heels into Vixen and galloped off across the courtyard as Mordred's men filed out of doors and archways on all sides, weapons drawn, intending to surround them and prevent them from escape. Gwen had no time to do anything other than react as Morgana had done, and turn her horse for the drawbridge. Gaius clung round her waist for dear life, as Eira did likewise to Morgana. Arrows zipped past them as Mordred's men opened fire, and Gwen ducked as the arrows came closer and closer to hitting their targets.

The two women steered their horses off the dusty road as soon as they were free of the confines of the Citadel walls, and galloped into the thick, dense forests as fast as the horses were able to, under such treacherous terrain.

The sounds of pursuit soon filtered away into the night, and Gwen finally allowed herself a slight smile as she realised that quite possibly, they may have escaped Mordred's clutches, after all.

Now all she had to do was find Arthur and warn him about the trap.

As she glanced over to Morgana, galloping along beside her, however, she let out a cry of shock, and reigned her horse to a halt. Morgana, taken by surprise, pulled Vixen up sharply, and gave Gwen a quizzical stare. But the stunned Queen could only point towards Eira.

"The poor girl," Gaius muttered, quietly horrified.

Confusion etched its way across Morgana's face as she glanced over her shoulder.

Eira was slumped forward, her eyes glazed over and a small trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. A crossbow bolt was buried deeply in the back of her neck.

The Princess was dead.

"She died to save me?" Morgana asked quietly, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"It was unfortunate, but I do not believe she died for you," Gaius corrected quietly.

"You don't understand," Morgana argued. "She insisted on sitting behind me. She would not sit in front. She begged me to take the reins. I did not understand why...until now."

Vixen pawed the ground uneasily, starting to get nervous. The sounds of their pursuers steadily grew in volume.

"We can't stay here," Gwen hated to spoil the 'epiphany' that Morgana seemed to be having, but someone needed to keep their head, or they would all share Eira's tragic fate.

Morgana hesitated a moment, then reached behind and pushed Eira's lifeless body from the saddle.

"You can't leave her here!" Gwen started to protest, but Morgana silenced her with an icy glare.

"I am not riding all the way to Essetir with a dead girl clinging round my waist!"

"How can you be so heartless?!" Gwen snapped, even though deep down she knew that if she'd been in Morgana's position, she'd have done exactly the same.

"I will mourn her passing, when we are out of danger!" Morgana snapped back.

"But you cannot leave her to those dogs!"

Morgana looked like she seriously wanted to protest, but eventually gave a frustrated sigh and threw out her hand. A jet of orange flame darted from her fingers and quickly engulfed the Princess' body.

"There. A funeral fit for a queen," she said, tugging on Vixen's reins. "Now if you want to stay here and get caught, then be my guest. But I'm going to find my betrothed."

And she galloped off into the dense forest of trees, quickly vanishing from sight.

Gwen could not take her eyes from the burning pyre that was all that remained of Eira, but Gaius's voice in her ear finally brought her back to the present.

"We need to keep going, child. And as much as it pains me to say this, we should go with Morgana. She is searching for Lot. And wherever Lot is, Arthur will surely be close by."

"I suppose there is safety in numbers," Gwen agreed reluctantly, as she also urged her own horse on into a steady canter, picking up Morgana's trail soon after.


End file.
